Hugh Hamilton
"You know I need you're loving honey but you're so hard."
"Just what is it you have to guard?"
To that Jim frowned and sat back down.
"You were just a girl from the north country," he mused.
"Oxford Town," she replied coldly, not amused.
Looking up at the sky he said: "A hard rain's gonna fall."
"It ain't me, babe, it's you instead," she spoke looming five foot tall.
"It's you," she said. "I just can't stand your sight."
He sat still for a moment then replied: "Don't think twice, it's alright."
"I remember now, but I forgot to say, you were in my 115th dream."
"Oh," he said and smiled a while. "Are you the granddaughter of Mr. Clean?"
"Yes," she said as the guilty undertaker sighed.
"I am her, indeed I am, time is on my side."
"Sooner or later," he said, "one of us must know."
"But in the meanwhile," she replied softly, "one of us must go."
"Are we too early or are we too late?"
"Perhaps we should wait awhile for a simple twist of fate."
1 comment:
This is, without doubt, among the very worst gaggle of words my fingers have ever concocted. How I ever thought this a good idea escapes me. If only it was just me rhyming! Ye gad. I sincerely apologise. This narrative already had enough dents in it. Oh, how horrid.
Post a Comment