The late September sun
Bathed the water
meadow
As sheep graze the lammas
In stark relief against
the blue
Like a great golden
arrow
The spire points
heavenward
The late September sun
Bathed the water
meadow
As sheep graze the lammas
In stark relief against
the blue
Like a great golden
arrow
The spire points
heavenward
I find that in my life
Low expectations are
advised
Because I am rarely
disappointed
And often quite
surprised
I remember the words
To every number one
Since 1968
Every single one
But for some reason,
Not that anyone cares,
I can’t remember why
I walked up the stairs
Women are not moody
Not a bit of it
It’s just they have
days
When, let’s face it
They are not prepared
To put up with the
shit
Don’t throw in the towel
When times get tough
Because no matter how bad
No matter how rough
It doesn’t really help
Because you see
Throwing in the towel
Just makes more
laundry
When my Gran got out of bed
And suddenly felt
chest pain
She knew that she had
only
Stood on her nipples
again
Some people come into our lives
And leave footprints
on our hearts
Others tread softly leaving
no traces
But then there are the
ones
On who you want to
leave boot prints
All over their stupid
faces