Will you miss

One from missus…a much younger creature than this old fool


Will you miss the tut you give me as I noisily slurp my coffee

Will you miss your impatient sigh as I trip up the kerb

Will you miss the shout you give when I don’t at first respond

Will you miss the groan as you heave me out of the chair

Will you hell, you bastard

When I’m dead and gone you’ll miss my bouncy breasts, my blond smile as the wind slaps my face, my skip among the sand dunes as we raced towards the shoreline

You’ll only think of the buxom maid who set your pulses racing and that’s as it should be, my love.

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