Loneliness is a festering boil.
Say the fullness of my bones,
can be whittled and honed.
Love is in the air and,
I want to watch your derriere,
swing as you walk to the
bedroom to get changed,
I dream in vivid color.
I dreamt of grim death.
The Reaper's henchmen,
were gathering the lame.
Summer heat is beating me down to the ground.
The radiation of the sun melting my skin.
Winter chill is not really that chilly between sunrise and sunset.
I look forward to the fresh air as it feels clean to breath.
Sounds of melancholy
and sounds of mystique,
Is the music of ancestors
on the winds of time,
I am trying an all-new,
leisure that is homebrew.
The thing is, however,
I know not now whether,
Raucous laughter filled the room.
As mum chased him with a wooden spoon.
The little boy spoke too soon,
as his mother cornered the pint-sized goon.
There was a painter named Drake.
Could barely afford a pancake.
He got paid by the hour.
His finances dour.
There was a little dog called Fluffy.
Got beat in the park by a roughie.
The vet was called out.
He was in no doubt.
As seniors we are lactose intolerant.
Gluten, dairy and sugar is some of it.
As kids we eat what we want.
As adults we know that we can't.