A tingle you itch to scratch

A battle not likely to be won

Pigeon droppings on the hat

A bleeding sun on the horizon.

Muddled thoughts, writer’s curse

Tangled yarn a knitter’s bane

Bodies swathed in naked clothes

Sanity twaddles on a cane.

He said, she said, was all they said

The gavel bangs in the courtroom

Was this conversation just in my head?

Innocence hangs in the cloakroom.

The valet, parking a swanky car

Mannequins dressed to the nines

Do not touch, admire from afar

Always colour between the lines.

Oysters for a frugal lunch

Leaky faucet awaits a twist

Reality is merely a hunch

Rolex on the plumber’s wrist.

Birthday cake smeared on the face

Wearing headphones to a musical

The painting hung by a shoe lace

Artists can be somewhat whimsical.