Bazaar Fledgling

I ' My Little John

At home he feels no worship,
There are three children
One wife,
Always bearing a kettle,
Or cutlery,
And a whole host of bills,
Taking down the working wage,
Of his working day,
But keeping their heads above water.

II ' Prostitution Constitution

It has not been an innovative Year,
Christmas lacked an Eve,
My birthday was just another date,
Because in the finance devoid,
They are not significantly celebrating,

This Valentines Day has a dissimilar node,
A financed chord from my little John,
He says love lashed at his reins,
And not petty cash in hotel alcoves,
Our bedroom fr-antics,
Have caused him vast sentiment

And he cannot realise from his list,
Has he adoration to bear,
Or merely,
Capital shifting hands.

III ' Six Aching Ends

Cannot leave my wife,
Cannot leave my children,
Cannot tell my mother,
Cannot leave my life,
Father would be proud,
But then he is not around,

One side shuts off the other sides passing,
Hope lies in itself something to aim for,
To pass the years so fairly.

© Copyright 2006 Leigh Cole