There’s an acquaintance
that I have no knowledge of –
I call him Sidney.
.
He likes to call round
at inopportune moments
and brings me flowers.
.
He stays for minutes –
barely time for a cuppa –
then he toodles off.
.
I count down the hours
until he returns once again
a bunch in his hand.
.
I don’t like flowers,
or Sidney, or Sidney’s hat;
they make me feel sad.
.
One day – not today –
I shall answer the front door
wearing just a smile.
.
This may do the trick,
or it might encourage him,
who can tell these days?
—//—
When Sidney passed on,
I cried for a long weekend,
and felt my time called.
.
Forty years later,
I still think of old Sidney,
and his horrible hat.
Life is short, take a chance …
All made up – it wrote itself. But, life is… short.
Hope you are well, Cage. 🙂
Well enough to give a bit of cheek, and that’s what counts, right?
And you?