I'm a little late and a little slow
That seems to be how these things go.
Jet lagged then ill
Yet longing still
To write for Bad Poetry Day.
I think that's all I have to say,
Except for thanks to Oz the host
To his contest we offer toasts:
If I had a hand
I'd raise a glass
But since I'm resting
I'll raise my...
For what I truly want to express
I wish I knew a proper toast
Now I feel I must address
Isn't toast made with bread?
I'm staying with the nomads whileBethany's mom is away,
So though I'm new to this typing thing, I do have a toast to say:
Cheers! Santé! Slàinte! Lechyd da!
And hip-hip-hip hooray!
All the best to you and yours
With cups raised to the sky.
Wait. I think that I meant raised ears
For none are bigger than mine!
We have some travel tales in store.
We're just waiting for bodies and brains to recover,
From the craziness that has been our summer.
Fortunately this bad poetry post, reminds us everyone
That we've missed our blog and friends- it's just so, so much fun!
Or should we just say sorry?