A romantic birthday poem by Janet
I look forward to the chats we do,
Especially the ones about your poo,
Will it float to the top or go straight around the bend
Sometimes its so long you can’t see the end,
and as you flush the loo, with a tear in your eye,
You wave to your poo with a friendly goodbye,
“so farewell old pal, I didn’t know you long
now all that is left is a terrible pong.
I’m moved by her devotion to my scatalogical reports.