Poems
LOSS OF DROSS!
I laid it on the arm of the chair
To answer the phone.
When I returned it simply wasn’t there!
Well, doggone.
We waited for a day or two to see if our suspicions
Would become reality,
And there it was.
An orange paste of rather unsavoury recycled waste.
She ate my fifty quid!
That little sod, guide dog Maud,
That’s exactly what she did!
I worked five hours to earn that lot.
Now, what have I got for my trouble?
My money back,
Metamorphosed
On a…shovel!
by Gladys Taylor