A tale I wrote
Two old geezers are sat at the bus stop.
Not usually this late,
says the one with the full carrier bag.
Didn't realise it wasn't on time,
says the one with the empty bag.
Two birds fly past my windows.
If humans had wings
perhaps we'd work together more.
My desk is bulging with half-finished poems,
a mug of cold tea, a cup of tap water
time has turned it sparkling,
a gone off banana, an unpeeled orange,
a picture of an old geezer
who bought me here.