I must endeavour to take each day as it comes
Despite my being all fingers and thumbs
Thinking good thoughts and doing things I like to do
Are surely the best things I should pursue?
Although at times I feel I’ve had enough
I tell myself I am made of sterner stuff.
“Wear my Shoes” was the first poem written by me when several years down the Parky way
And, despite the ups and downs, I have to say
I’m still fighting the demon that walks by my side,
Which gets even harder as the years pass by.
I have filled my garden with roses so beautiful to view,
And on the odd occasion I might smell them too.
It is just wishful thinking wearing ordinary shoes
As for wearing stiletto heels just brings on the blues
By wheelchair or scooter I still manage to get about,
“P” plates on display but with a voice now lacking any clout,
Don’t wait for me to shout
“Get out of my way,” before it’s too late
It’s not you but Parky I hate.