The sensationally-stunning Valerie Perez...
And that's only a few of mine below...
In a strange kind of way, I regard all of my many possessions as though they were my children, and sometimes worry about what will happen to them when I'm no longer around. Several months or so back (maybe longer), with this in mind, I dashed off a few lines of verse on a scrap of paper and then forgot about it. I found it while tidying up my room earlier and decided to publish it on the blog.
I'm not had time to polish and refine it yet, but I thought some of you might appreciate the sentiment, if not its execution, so here it is. Not thought of a finished title for it yet, just a temporary stand-in. (Hey, who said "Call it P*sh"?) I'd be interested in knowing whether you regard your collection in the same way, or would you say I'm taking things to extremes? Let's hear what you think.
Incidentally, some lines may change as new revisions occur to me.
The Break Up
The treasures we cherish from cradle to grave,
possessions acquired we've chosen to save;
companions through life to ourselves and each other,
we love them as though we're their father or mother.
Then one day we're gone, our treasures are scattered,
orphaned, dispensed with, like they never mattered.
Some go to new owners or are just thrown away,
A 'family' divided - oh, sad wretched day.
To lose first their owner then all of their friends,
a potent reminder that everything ends.
There's no point, I know, in a cruel fate berating,
but I hope, up above, to find them all waiting.