Chalky’s problems
There’s a stalactite called chalky, in a cave not far away.
And sometimes, I hang out with him, and we pass the time of day.
He never seems to do much, he’s always hanging around..
Hanging from the ceiling. And staring at the ground.
Chalky’s not his real name, he won’t say what that is.
I call him chalky, as he’s white, and it’s better than Fred or Liz.
I asked him when his birthday is, he said, I couldn’t say.
I’ve been here about a thousand years, give or take a day.
I must have been a baby once, if stalactites are born.
But maybe someone hung us here, the ceiling to adorn.
I asked him why he looked so sad, he said well wouldn’t you.
I’ve been hanging here a thousand years, with bugger all to do.
I’ve never seen the daylight, I’ve never been outside.
Its humiliating, hanging here, even stalactites have pride.
Even bats can go outside, and smell the outside air.
But all I do is hang around, it isn’t bloody fair.
The calcite always sticks to me, I think I’m getting whiter.
And it makes me bigger too, so I have hang on tighter.
I wanted to be positive, and give him good advice.
But given his predicament, I could think of nothing nice.
Perhaps one day, you’ll reach the floor, and wont need to grip so tight.
Chalky just looked down at me, and said perhaps I stalag might.
How do you find the time ....... :huh: :huh: :huh:
Just sad I suppose. :unsure:
Lovely Doug, made me laugh. Thank you.
Thanks Shan :cheer: