My fingertips to write To adlib, make magic on the page The read back was no more than a bunch of garble Stop press, this woman is a fool I jiggle my appointments to manage my time better I have no wish to waste it To see it perish, like old apples in a bowl Off the cuff, I decide that fresh air was needed Stopping in the middle of the road Remembering the parish church have a monthly boot sale There, I picked up a wonderful fleece Would it prove true the legend? © AnitaDawes 2022
Leave a Reply