CELIA'S POEMS

No 315     January 24     

 

I know you wonít believe me,

But Iíve lost the power of speech,

I seem to say things all in rhyme,

To speak normal someone will have to teach.

 

I sit and say things to myself,

And think oh that sounds right,

By the time I get my writing pad,

The words have gone from sight.

 

I may have sent a lot of poems,

But believe me when I say,

Thereís lots of little bits of ones,

That I just throw away.

 

But I just feel itís easy,

Just like Iím talking to you,

When weíre locked up and canít go out,

What else am I to do.

 

Donít worry, Iím still baking,

At stupid hours of the day,

Itís just something that I love to do,

Then give it all away.

 

I often try new recipes,

To see if theyíll please you,

Some of them you may get to try,

The others just wonít do.

 

I donít know why I bother,

Weíve been away so long,

Whatever I bring youíll love it,

How nice, I canít go wrong.