the other day*...
'What would you like for luncheon?'
He looked at me strangely
With pencil behind my ear,
he often looked at me with a strange
'Look here me ole matey!'
On one occasion I
fired at his regal self.
Poor lad, who was this
strange apparition that ran
the kitchen like a hippy
Mrs Bridges with bosoms A-Go-Go?
My father a very refined gent, often
looked at his only child, with
wonder in his eyes...
How had this happened?
Latterly, I would say and do outrageous things
(surprise you? Nay... didn't think so!)
He would cry, with tears in his eyes,
pleading with me to stop.
'Linda, I can't breathe with my asthma;
you make me laugh too much!'
Why have I always
done and said outrageous things?
Some might say...
'Attention seeking only child!'
Got to admit, I think they're on to something there.
What do you think?
At the end of the day...
I'm happy with life,
the good, the bad, the ugly, the sad, the fun.
* Own-up time... It wasn't the other day.