My gouty foot

shouts doubt at night,

turns up the pain

if I don’t eat right. 

Warming comfort

isn’t enough, to amuse 

my grumbling

two-bit hoof.

My broken big toe

won’t let go.

Keeps telling me off

for its creaky woes. 

It’s my fault

for this sorry state,

should’ve skipped the tackle,

pulled out too late.

My gallbladder

was a c...

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A friend took my football memorabilia 

to a better place, another the CDs I never play, 

and the charity shop have the books I’ve read, 

plus, the ones I hadn’t got to yet.

A decorator finished all my jobs, the garden’s

paved with a plastic lawn, the car's been

replaced with my Oyster account, and the

shopping arrives daily in small amounts.

I’ve digitalised every...

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