I was thinking about a poem I’d written for my young daughter a number of years ago, sort of a study in hey! things could be a lot worse. If I remember correctly, it went something like this:
little girl
little girl
what shall I do?
one stocking is red, the other is blue
little girl
little girl
what shall I do?
one stocking is old, the other is new
little girl
little girl
what shall I do?
two stockings I have, but only one shoe
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Ironically dad, on the night of your operation I was going to tell you, you may no longer had a prostate but at least you still have both shoes. <3
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