by Phillip Brady

The grip of a cold East Wind on the chest,

When you and the road are both going West.

When you stop for a chat with nothing to say,

When you wouldn’t have stopped like that yesterday.

Walking uphill with a step that’s not right,

With the hill diagnosed, but no hill in sight.

When the longest way round is the shortest way home

Half-way up the hill and you there on your own.

Noticing acid, with no acid in food

And a poor sense of humor to lighten the mood.

Do not be a hero who sits on the fence,

That looks the wrong way and jettisons sense,

Consult with an expert, respect their advice.

Listen and learn, it might not happen twice.

Philip Brady

Philip Brady is a doctor and poet who lives in Edenderry, Ireland
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