Bequest

POETS UNITED

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BEQUEST

I bequeath to you my genes,

(You know who I'm talking to),

Though I've no say in the final mix

I shall pass-on to you.

You and others down the line

Will mix and match and merge

Until my genes are a tiny part

Of babies that will emerge.

If only you could choose the bits

To save or cast-away,

But genetics cannot be controlled;

Life doesn't work that way.

In the future Science may allow

Lady Luck to be defied

But, by that time, my little 'bits'

Will have scattered far and wide.

In the here and now it's a lottery

In which we're all involved,

And it's been that way since the dawn of time,

When this old earth first evolved.

So I live in the hope my substandard genes

May fall by the wayside soon;

My 'no sense of direction' gene

Has never been a boon!

The 'double-chin' gene is a wretched one

That has made me feel non-plussed;

And the gene for 'taking offense' is one

That should certainly bite the dust.

But I hope the gene for 'love of words'

Goes on and on and on.

And the gene for 'wild enthusiasm'.....

I'd be sad if that were gone.

The gene for 'long life' ...... there's a gem

That I'd love to bequeath to you.

Good luck with my genes in the future!

(You know who I'm talking to.)

*

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QUIET CORNERA touch of Victoriana,
Though no-one wears a bustle,
And through the windows clear to see
Lies all the modern hustle.
'The Metropole', in Katoomba,
A little old-time hotel,
Where the beds are clean and comfortable
And the owner feeds us well.
Where time for the morning paper
Follows a breakfast feast
And the awful headlines fade away
And don't worry us in the least.
Up in the Blue Mountains,
Among the hilly mists,
We find that the past enfolds us,
And serenity still exists.
*