It’s not often I am told to bask in the glory. So I am doing it. Willingly.
Does this mean to take a break also? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I enjoy writing and to stop would be akin to cutting off a limb (no rhyme intended) So I will carry on writing and gaining the plaudits of likes from my loyal readers.
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You Worked Hard
A Poem
by Andrew Watkins
Distance between us
In a dolls house
Your washing machine
My Television and bookshelves
Your bathroom
My dinner table
We split the house down the middle
with space for the garage mine
I flex my muscles in time
to the music on my system
while you play my little pony
It’s a novelty seeing you grown up
the last time I saw your were so small
and I missed the interesting years
with all the boys cigs and beer and reading books.
I missed out on. You worked hard, must ave.
Like writing in Mango, nothing is legible
Only the feelings of a lost home and time remain.
Material things get the better of us 