Hello Sailor!
His six pack gradually hid itself
under his pot belly as he slid into old age.
He could rest his tea on it and a sandwich -
it was quite a handy shelf!
Of course, it remained a six pack
well, in his eyes, and who was I to enlighten him.
We'd both decided, without a word
that it was there, deep down.
Yes it was where we couldn't see it,
out of sight, ready to spring back into action
should the new diet work
and as I loved him, I didn't really care
but often, in the afternoons, when the sun goes down,
I stroke his rowing machine in the corner
and wonder - if he'll ever ride the waves
of the big bad ship again.
poem by Ruth Walters
Added by Poetry Lover
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