Back to the Birds

Busy/tiring day. Not all as expected. Some good. Some bad. It's also late/early after working on my website, so sleep beckons and words seem like hard work.

Yep.

Just sat for five minutes. Pondering. And 'duvet' keeps springing to mind, which isn't the most fertile of grounds for a wordy entry, so instead I'll do something I used to do all the time - an on-the-fly bit of 'poetry' (I'm not sure if they liked it or not, but folks used to do a sort of 'Whose Line Is It Anyway?' thing with me and daft little rhymes (as in given a subject to create something with) - took only a few minutes and was a birrovvalaff):

Tucked up
Tucked in
Warm soft down
No need
Under here
For pee jays or gown

Except

Sometime
During the night
Under cover
Of lack of light
Under cover
The girl on the right
Manipulates
Perhaps in dream perambulates
And collates
That covering

Whether lover
Or any significant other
How do they
(women I mean)
Manage to plunder
That which you lie under
And yet wake
Your left leg
Arm
Cold shouldered
And demand
"Why do you have all the covers?"

So I say
As I pray
Through night to day
All the way
Love, honour, obey
But keep your mitts off my duvet...

G'night.