Sunday, June 5, 2011



I give you incongruity,
An odd juxstaposition,
A wry little offbeat comment
On the old human condition.
By 'old' of course I do mean old;
These ladies are as old as me,
But look at the writing on the wall!
That's the incongruity!
We meet at the local centre
That's set aside for youth.
The decor's not quite to our taste;
(We sometimes mutter 'Streuth!')
The odd little elfin creature
Perched high up on a shelf
Is smirking there behind his hand
And giggling to himself.
Still, the colourful splashes of art work
Are right at any stage,
And it's the age inside one's head
That's the only important age.



Nobody born in 1931
Ever knew that bouncing about was fun!
Maybe they'd bounce on the bed, but not too high
Hoping that all the feathers wouldn't fly!
Maybe they hopped in puddles in the rain
Or jumped like jack-in-the-boxes now and again.
But bouncing like a ball they never knew;
They never saw what trampolines could do!
We who were born in 1931
Missed out on a lot of trampolining fun.
Trampolining! Exercise and art!
Pity that I'm a bit too old to start!

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