I worry about my addictions,
(But only from time to time)
Usually when I'm skin full of gin,
Or overly wobbly with wine.
Casting away back to childhood,
I wonder, 'When did it begin?'
The weakness I have for indulgence,
Devout people label as sin.
Did I discover malt whiskey,
Along with Big Ears and Noddy,
When trying to cure my cough was I given,
Just one too many hot toddy?
But it's not only spirits and bubbly,
To which I just cannot say 'no',
By nine thirty a.m. I'm having the shakes,
For my caffeine fix; double espresso.
Still, mainlining coffee is nothing,
Compared to my worst vice of all,
It's costly to keep feeding this one,
And answer its primitive call.
I have to confess that the habit,
Has something to do with leather;
Buckles and straps (most often in black),
Not comfortable- well hardly ever.
And when I fuel my desire,
The guilt and shame scorches me through,
But it's worth all the pain and the overdraft,
To step out in a fashionable shoe.
For more Tuesday poems and my editors pick for this week click on the quill on the top right of my blog!
Love the pic, Fi - and oh you have some fab shoes - your poems always make me smile...
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