Thursday 9 June 2011

Life in Mots

Working out these flaws,
That’s all,
Trying to pass muster,
Perform a life as it hasn’t been
Mine.

In one pot,
Adding weed stalks to evening tea,
Working mots,
At an age much towards
Place.

Family table called,
All gathered,

And you at the head,
The sperm giver.

A father at last,
Bedded with a foreign wife,
Cellar of local wine,
Multilingual kids (beaten on occasion)
A respectable career,

In the arts
or culinary scene?

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