A THIN SLICE OF HAM IN THE HAND IS BETTER THAN A FAT PIG IN A DREAM.

"Never bolt your door
with a boiled carrot!"

as Uncle would say
with a wink

tongue in cheek.

It didn't make any sense
as our door was always

open
we never knew it

( locked ).

And I liked my carrots
raw and stolen

plucked from my father's
little plot

he perplexed
by little human rabbits.

His mud caked boots
standing amazed

as we hid holding
our breaths(

)amongst the flowering
Kerr's Pinks.

But "poets and pigs
are only appreciated

after
their death."

As they say.

Whoever 'they"
were?

But as I always
say:

"Don't be after breaking
your shin on a stool

that isn't
...there!"