MOJO
In a break from my normal Friday blogette… a bit of a spontaneous five minute poem, prompted by that post being unwell, and looking after other unwell ones, feeling, where the old mojo appears to have gone walk about, and also sparked by a twitter conversation.
MOJO
My mojo is a bran flake
down the back of the settee.
Soft and kind of wrinkly
and definitely past its best I want to
leave it there,
push it back,
find another more appealing.
But when I reach my hand in,
I find another.
I have two bran flake mojos.
Heavens! What to do?
And how many more are there?
And how come there are two?
I feed one to my dog
and nibble on the other,
making a note on my pink lip post-it…
next time, make it a frostie.
Abi Burlingham 
soooo funny! LOVE it!
ha ha! Thank you, glad you like it Julia
see your Mojo was just hiding ! take it with milk !
Too late – it’s gone. Next time will have cold milk ready 😉
Ha ha! Wonderful! Remind me to have a hunt down the back of the sofa next time my mojo goes walkabout (don’t think there’s even a bran flake down there, though – just a few Hound hairs!).
*whispers… I have those too* 😀 Glad you liked!
I am laughing as I type I am laughing. Excellent work Mrs B 10/10
Why thank you kindly. You’ll be pleased to know that I have managed to hold on to my mojo since discovering it. At least the next time it disappears I’ll know where to look for it 😉