For 5 long years I’ve lived beside

These other senile twits,

In this home for retirees,

Biddies and Old Gits.

 

To offer some excitement

I read my poems out loud

And started to attract

An appreciative crowd.

 

40 perhaps or 50

Attentively sat round,

Hanging on my every word

Like I was Ezra Pound.

 

I read to them my comic verse

(I pride myself on wit)

With tragedies and histories

And monologues a hit.

 

The time flew by unnoticed

Marking passing hours;

My audience unnoticed too,

Wilting like dead flowers.

 

As evening loomed I looked around

To see the crowd had gone

Apart from two old diehards -

Gloria and John.

 

Since they were enthusiasts

I kept on with my rhymes

Until the Night Nurse joined us,

Announcing our bedtime.

 

My illusions shattered instantly

As they were led away;

I realised with horror

Just why they chose to stay;

 

It seemed they weren’t so fond of verse,

Hanging on my breath,

But Gloria has got no legs

And John’s completely deaf.