The Spoonbill Generator

Balletic Tropism

The crutch on which you make your way [loaf]

Of wood or gin or darker stuff, [Gussie]

Is scarcely fitting for display [loaf]

But keeps me on and that's enough. [Gussie]

It's not enough, though, when in vain [loaf]

To walk without I just can not. [Gussie]

And when my sense is far from plain [loaf]

In truth, my crutch is what I sought. [Gussie]

A second crutch would not suffice [loaf]

My first has taken all my life. [Gussie]

A third would surely kill me twice [loaf]

The crutch is sharper than a knife. [Gussie]

In days to come, a broken crutch [loaf]

Will show my strength. I walk away. [Gussie]

The prospect does not thrill me much [loaf]

They trump what real life has to say. [Gussie]

Contributors: loaf, Gussie.
Poem finished: 30th January 2004 by Anon..