THROUGH HER EYES
Posted: Thu May 19, 2011 7:53 am
THROUGH HER EYES
I can scarce rise in the morning these days I just need a hand
but I manage to avoid the shower – once a month is just grand.
My tuckers laced with pills and potions every day it’s true
but I’m grateful for it – not whingeing – variety is not bad too.
At the moment I am just a bit lonesome all on my own
though me Mum, and Sister drop in often – got no cause to moan.
Me Gran and Aunty come today to check my recovery
me big bruvva called me bucket head - he can go to bug***y.
I don’t mind the rain or frost so much but thunder I can’t hack.
I get really scared it takes me ages to get back on track.
Me Mum gives me these pills she says will take the fear away
but they just give me the wobbly boots for the rest of the day.
I never get the blame for things ‘cause I am always good
and a psychiatrist I don’t need – though Mum would if she could
for she thinks I am depressed right now – I am, but just a bit,
she says I’m brave, stoic and beautiful – not prone to a hissy fit.
I don’t have electric blankets but I do have kennels – two.
And my coats they number three I think – no four – forgot the blue.
Blankets I have a choice of five – the woollen ones the best
the others are a trifle thin – no longer my Mums best.
I quite like being a dog most days now my life is complete
with a family, no longer struggling out there on the street
to live and find a feed. No one here ever yells at me
of hits or kicks or beats me – this is darn good territory.
But I can’t wait to get better and get both legs working right.
The pains not bad - I bear it though it gives me gyp at night.
But better days are coming – Mum tells me so every day
as she rubs me tummy and me leg – Would she lie? Nup, no way.
Maureen Clifford © 05/11
I can scarce rise in the morning these days I just need a hand
but I manage to avoid the shower – once a month is just grand.
My tuckers laced with pills and potions every day it’s true
but I’m grateful for it – not whingeing – variety is not bad too.
At the moment I am just a bit lonesome all on my own
though me Mum, and Sister drop in often – got no cause to moan.
Me Gran and Aunty come today to check my recovery
me big bruvva called me bucket head - he can go to bug***y.
I don’t mind the rain or frost so much but thunder I can’t hack.
I get really scared it takes me ages to get back on track.
Me Mum gives me these pills she says will take the fear away
but they just give me the wobbly boots for the rest of the day.
I never get the blame for things ‘cause I am always good
and a psychiatrist I don’t need – though Mum would if she could
for she thinks I am depressed right now – I am, but just a bit,
she says I’m brave, stoic and beautiful – not prone to a hissy fit.
I don’t have electric blankets but I do have kennels – two.
And my coats they number three I think – no four – forgot the blue.
Blankets I have a choice of five – the woollen ones the best
the others are a trifle thin – no longer my Mums best.
I quite like being a dog most days now my life is complete
with a family, no longer struggling out there on the street
to live and find a feed. No one here ever yells at me
of hits or kicks or beats me – this is darn good territory.
But I can’t wait to get better and get both legs working right.
The pains not bad - I bear it though it gives me gyp at night.
But better days are coming – Mum tells me so every day
as she rubs me tummy and me leg – Would she lie? Nup, no way.
Maureen Clifford © 05/11
