Poor Dad! (IP)
By Rhiannonw
- 3277 reads
Hungry on holiday
kids’ tummies sad
end of a jolly day, –
‘Where’s the chippie, Dad?’
Driving up and all around,
‘Stop, Dad, ask a passer-by’
‘Need a local on home ground
clear directions to supply.’
‘Please, sir, could you tell me where …’
he freezes, shrivels to a stop –
looks behind the man, to where
“Fish and Chips” festoons the shop!
Blunders then, ‘Is this the nearest
“Fish and Chips”?’ he mumbles, blurts,
and so receives the blankest, queerest
look, his kids laugh til it hurts.
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Comments
This one rang a few bells
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new Rhiannonw Lovely poem
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This put a smile on my face
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Hi Rhiannon
Hi Rhiannon
This poem is good fun - less intense than lots of your poems, but with a message all the same. My husband would never stop and ask for directions. He preferred being lost for ages, and then eventually finding the destination on his own.
Jean
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