CELIA'S POEMS

No 257     November 29

When I write a poem each day,

You don’t want me to finish,

I suppose the contents must get worse,

They’re bound to diminish.

So to get the sack I’ll have to think,

And send you a mishap,

One day I’ll have to send you one,

That’s just a load of crap.

We’re really quite delighted,

You don’t want this to end,

The poems you want to continue,

After covid’s come to an end.

I’d hate to spoil your morning,

By not sending you a verse,

If you could not get through the day,

Me you’d start to curse.

Well I suppose I can’t have that,

So onward we will go,

I really do feel gratified,

When you say you love them so.

So as long as you still need me,

Keighley’s answer to Pam Ayres,

We’ll stay happy in our bubble,

Just a substitute, but who cares.