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Poetry Corner January 2023


Photo Credit - Hilary Care

‘Twas the month after Christmas


‘Twas the month after Christmas and all through the house

Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.


The cookies I’d nibbled, the eggnog I’d taste.

All the holiday parties had gone to my waist.


When I got on the scales there arose such a number!

When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber)


I’d remember the marvellous meals I’d prepared;

The graves and sauces and beef nicely rared,


The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese

And the way I’d never said, “No thank you, please.”


As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt

And prepared once again to do battle with dirt …


I said to myself as only I can

“You can’t spend a winter disguised as a man!”


So … away with the last of the sour cream dip,

Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip.


Every last bit of food that I like must be banished

Till all the additional ounces have vanished.


I won’t have a cookie … not even a lick.

I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick.


I won’t have hot biscuits, or corn bread or pie.

I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.


I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore …

But isn’t that what January if for?


Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.

Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet.


Anonymous


- Submitted by Gill Gibbson-Piggot, Chair WFWI

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