Another – as with Male and Female Ants (a previous poem published here; quick search won’t harm ya!) – that I wrote and looking back now may take to work into the next collection.
Whistle when I’m happy to be here,
And sing when I’m not sure about it.
There are these two ways to go through life,
And only one to get out of it.
Blue by’n ever present radio,
Steering me in stereo newsflash.
Red because there’s nought that I can do,
‘Cept find the channel that’s least borish.