Four Fifths Is Fine, I Feel.

Unreasonable behaviour this part of I am,

Is silly, impetuous, unworldly, but damn!

It’s honest and true and a little bit crazy,

Flighty sometimes but never quite flaky

Enough to be daft to the point of plain stupid.

Like being a bit tipsy or speared by wee Cupid.

A tiny bit mental, a tad giggly too,

But it balances the serious, so that’s what I do.

Those folk who know me would testify

That I’m perfectly balanced, four out of five.

The one fifth I’m not is when fantasy’s in flow

Or I’m drunk as a skunk, a pity I know,

But delightfully daring to release the repressive.

Preferable to being much too depressive.

No mania here for I’ve read all about it,

I’m just me, can’t you see, a bit foolish, don’t doubt it.

But only at weekends when I’m in full flight

And mind’s in the clouds. I know, yes, it’s right

That others may think I might be an ass,

But, bugger, I’m honest to the point that I laugh

When things that I say bite me on the bum,

I deal with it, accept it, I blush then succumb

To reasonable behaviour once more in mid-week.

Weekends are for weird, I find as I speak.

No wonder my family think maybe there’s several,

Wife, mother, teacher and a bit of a devil.

Like a youth in my mind two days in the week,

So shoot me, but believe the words that I speak.

A little bizarre on the pan that is light

Lifts up my spirits then so I might

Return to the normal, the perfectly plain

The worker, wife, mother, balanced again.

 

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