Tary Not Dear Gwendolyn


Peculiar PoetryTary not dear Gwendolyn

O’er ice cream, cake or pie

Your stomach never proves to be

Much smaller than your eye

 

Tary not dear Gwendolyn

When heaping full your platter

A garden salad? Or french fries?

(You know you’ll choose the latter!)

 

Tary not dear Gwendolyn

With pralines in the pantry

Sweets like these although they please

 Make waists turn vigilante

 

Tary not dear Gwendolyn

On scents of roast beef gravy

Such nourishment will only serve

To make your waddle wavy

 

Until next time . . . I love you

 

21 thoughts on “Tary Not Dear Gwendolyn

  1. HAW!!! Gotta put that ‘un to music– it’d be a smash hit and sell 10 billion copies and Gwen could buy a lotta pralines with all that cabbage!! Your wunnaful verse caused me wavy to waddle, and made me tipsy-toddle! It made my gravy lumpy, and my head go bumpy!! I wanna tarry right here at this blog, where the humor is de tops and makes me liver flops!!

    You’re the bestest laugh-maker, Linda, and I dun care if’n I am repeating myself!! : )

    • Oh Mark! I can’t tell you how truly honored I am to be responsible for the tipsy of your toddle AND the flop of you liver! That’s about the nicest compliment I’ve had since 37 complimented me on my lumpy gravy!

      And it always makes my day to open my blog and see your smiling face in the comment box!. :D

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