Woops, I’m in the sin-bin again!
What was it this time…?
Ah yes, I’ve tripped over the skirting board
And landed with my head in the bolognaise.
And as I stand there, tomato-mopped - just like
The old times - I see you
Irritable and unfunny
As if you’re not watching me, or who
I used to be.
I’m no different. I’ve done this before.
And after I’d have-had-you
On the kitchen floor.
Or short-changed us a laugh or two.
Do I love you anymore?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.