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Bowing Out.

  This is my farewell message,

  Know NOT when 'twill be read,

  I KNOW,  that I'll not hear it,

  For I'll be 'tatie bread'.  - [cockney slang]


  'Tis true, I've had a good life,

  Initially, poor health,

  Though surgery, early thirties,

  Life IS much more than wealth.


  It's true, I had some humour,

  MY sense, yours, may not've been,

  But 'twas what I was 'blessed' with,

  It was my 'humerus' gene.


  Speaking of which, - WAS 'boney'

  With very little  fat,

  NOT for want of eating, 

  I REALLY enjoyed THAT.


  I did enjoy the singing,

  Church choir, Community,             

  Boy soprano, bass two, one, 

  Was all enjoyed by me.


  And YES, I LOVED the poetry,

  To me, it came so fast,

  And while my body's mortal,

  My poetry, it COULD last.


  But NOW, with flawless body,

  With Heavenly choir, I sing, 

  So, in reality, this ode,

  Will be my final thing.



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