He got the trot s:(pretty shitty)

Old mate, dear bro.
How do U go?
R U alive?
Will ring in five.

Can B quite bad:
more than a tad
long of the trot-
-s; mucks up a lot,

e-lect-ro-lyte
ballance, despite
all other health.
Guard this, God's wealth.

Answer me if
U're still not well.
I'll, help you sift,
'n give you a bell!

Pee-Double- You?
PW.

A CRAYON ON HIS HEAD... CAN SIGNIFY WISDOM

At the library, Saturday,
waiting for a friend.
People come & pass that way;
some run, some walk, some wend…

Partners holding hands went by,
children with their dads,
scooters, skateboards, bikes, and I
must have noticed “heads”.

Maybe some redheads, and black,
curly like an afro.
Brown & black hair holding hands.
All hair-kinds we know.

Then a pair of “twins” came through.
Not really twins you see.
In years gone past it wouldn’t do
what now it did in me.

It seemed like a high-lighter
had taken to each head.
Or even something brighter,
yet regal, and bless-ed.

A pearl crayon on his head
matched the same on hers.
I wondered if the colours bled
each year as life occurs,

and wanted, as I grow old,
to grow in what would match
such a crown of pure white-gold;
O, gracious-wisdom hatch!