Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
My sensitive senses
My sensitive senses
I have five senses
So I'm told
Which function less
As I grow old.
I'm deaf without my
Hearing aids
And use thick specs
As sight degrades.
My taste relies on
My false teeth.
For touch, my skull
has things beneath.
These stop me shaking
Which leaves smell
Best ask my wife
She's sure to tell.
Oh dear. Age. But don’t forget to celebrate wisdom. It should be a sense too. Actually an interesting idea. Senses engage with the world but wisdom processes the information usefully and with clarity.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Wise words my friend!
LikeLiked by 1 person
After a day on the ladder, I can vouch for the “old.” Spot on.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It creeps up, doesn’t it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
So silly and perfect rhythm abs rhyme. Enjoyed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. That’s me, silly😂
LikeLiked by 1 person
The inevitability of old age….lol at smell ask my wife.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I just knew that you would ‘get’ that line!😂
LikeLiked by 1 person
😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
hehe well done!
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person