Mrs Buddenheim's blouse
Hangs with Mr Johnstone's shirt
In Barnardo's window.
Mrs Buddenheim ceased to require it
Last July when the fat peony pump
That sat like a crimson spider
Amidst its empire of threads
Suddenly malfunctioned.
A full-on heart-attack
Mr Johnstone met his maker, whistling The Roving Ploughboy, Courtesy of a bus which skidded to avoid a cat.
Mrs Buddenheim's blouse
Is hanging with Mr Johnstone's shirt
In Barnardo's window.
They'd make a lovely couple.
Maybe some day they'll move in together
And share a double wardrobe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sheena, simply loved this. Nice to read something different.10/10 Regards, ian