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I’m thinking that,
‘born under a gooseberry bush’
don’t cut the mustard anymore

anyway why a gooseberry bush and 
why not a cherry tree?
it flummoxes me,
but truly
I’d prefer to be born under
the old chestnut tree
where chestnuts would rain down on me and
brown squirrels can squirrel me away
to the future of a later day

it’s reincarnation on a grander scale
when the boat that sinks
rises again to sail
Titanic I’d say.

Getting on in years that seem to fly
go back to the childhood
it all looked good to
say goodbye.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.