Sorry John - John E Blaise

Grey, thin, drinks tonic water mixed with Gin.
Toothless, not bearded or a hag, walks with a wooden stick,
Winks an eye surrounded by wrinkled skin,
Try to imagine her first romance,
Love making between silk sheets,
Steamy passion behind closed doors,
Groaning and moaning through the floors.
Imagine, Imagine, Imagine.
Frail, once a plump woman,
Now a skeleton, dressed for dinner,
I see her wearing a shroud
Followed around by a dark shadow
Has nothing left to say or discuss
I don’t believe in Jesus

John E Blaise