i,m bored so its poetry in motion, carried on ... wrote 2 years ago.
ive changed names

My little whippet muppet, sat at my side,
i looked through teary lids and sighed, my daffodill wilted, i wailed,
"does anyone know the where abouts of tigger , that funny fella on the radio"?

It was no use it just turned my face puce, it matched the sun as it sank in the west,
like a big , red, durham special, farm fresh, soggy tomato.

So ---- i had an idea, it became quite clear, we,d have a "virtual" dilly dally,
we.d wander, unashamed, unburdened down in durham, by the wear,
like kids acting silly, willy nilly.

I drew near the fire dogs at my feet, as i planned how we,d meet,
i sat on the clippy mat in a pork pie hat, munching on a bag of porky scratchings,
oh .. i felt so wretched, would my heart ever be mended, i twiddled my pen,
and then, sure as eggs is eggs, i began making it all up in my story tellers head,
yes, i,d write about it all instead, in other words its all ..."pretendy"....

It appeared in a flash in front of my eyes the fairy tale of virtuality,
the flibber de gibbert and the fashionable presenter, the magic, that defies all logic.

so here it begins my romantic story, in all its glory, with witchcraft and scorcery,
hocus pocus, and most definitley, putting it about.....largely.

please take note, my only explanation, while in quiet meditation,
trying to banish nurration, which could become my ruination,
listening to radio nicewhistle,
chomping on a fine ham sandwich, was, ?........ a fertile imagination.