It’s always right there isn’t it?
Barely out the door,
And wouldn’t you know,
A little tiny sore,
Ebbed my tranquil flow,
My thoughts turned sour,
At the instant poke,
Turned over with a scour,
To remove that tiny yoke,
Unbuckled that leather hide,
With aching back and strain,
And threw that boulder to the side,
To ease that fearsome pain,
Prostrate in that stance,
Did not see the villain from behind,
His boot to me advance,
And to my backside grind,
Murphy was his name I found,
There he said you needed that,
Now lay helpless on the ground,
Walked off and tipped his hat,
A penny for my thoughts there found
With the dirt so near my nose,
Happily then I turned around,
And wrote a little prose,
Bless you Murphy I did say,
It’s good to see the sky,
Laying there this way,
Was that the reason why?
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Blessings and Love ~~ Micke
Georg