Truly, honestly, really.
I'm far from being with it, this texting stuff is nuts.
I still stick all my comma's in there, even the odd full stop.
Someone sent me ' lol', had to think on that.
Thought they were talking, garden stuff, all about their citrus.
Would you not have thought, lemon, oranges and limes.
Maybe, they were just chucking off at this old gardener.
Who is way behind the times.
But I am getting into the swing of it, getting right up there.
If I send to you. this text, grrrrrrr, nothing more needs to be said.
It is the texting word for "rabbits", they're doing in my head.
What is going on, am I really losing the plot.
Yes, I do the occassional "odd" thing, misplace,
blame others. You know the thing.
Now the garden is doing it to me, confusing me know end.
Look over here, I'm dressed for Autumn.
But just behind me, there is something flowering for Spring.
The calendar says it's Summer, and my sweaty brow tells me so.
But Winter has't shown her face, it is still to jolly hot.
How I yearn for some mist and fog.
But I get the other lot.
I am begging for forgiveness, grovelling you may say.
Is possibly quite right, but I am not quite on bended knee.
You may recall, the Spoilt Black Dog, was blamed for being
greedy. When the salami went missing, from under the said
christmas tree.
Alas Oh! No, I have found it, hidden in the cupboard.
Am I losing the plot, have I lost my marbles.
I have dutifully said I am sorry, many many times.
But he still looks at me, with those eyes as we wander in the garden.
How could you be so mean to even think that of me, he says
without muttering one single word.
So extra bones are on the shopping list.
Until I get forgiven.
