Poetry Corner

My sister-in-law wrote this about me last night:

There was a young man called Gary.
Whose voice it did somewhat carry.
He came from Dromore but he did not snore
But sleep talked forever more. 

There was a young man called Gary.
Who owned too many books to carry.
He felt called to Trinity but didn’t forget Lynsey.
But in Newcastle he asked her to marry.

There was a young man called Gary.
Who now had his own church secretary
He lived in mount regan and ate lots of bacon.
And was definitely not a good pagan.

For more thoughts, poems and the occasional bad joke by Louise check out her Mindkee blog.