When your life seems an endless Sahara
do not reach for the trusted mascara
If it's tears to replace
in your lovely old face
go and hug her, the mother of Tara.
I've been called worse than thinly sliced bread
I don't hear any voices in bed.
But for every malaise
there is tincture of praise
I remember what THIS lady said.
Do I wonder if love can make war
seems I've seen it all bothered before.
What a woman rejects
doubles back and reflects
a cantankerous scruffy old boar.
As a man I perceive many vibes
from my spirits in thousands of tribes.
it's a smile they are sharing
with all those who are caring,
I'm not one though who oversubscribes.
Herbert, what on earth can be worse than thinly sliced bread? Nice little ditty by the way... Rgds, Ivan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How did I miss this? I'm going to show my marm-eeeee! Love to you H. t x