Oh Ankle, my Ankle
(not the foot, not the knee,
but somewhere gloriously in between),
From the days you’d boom out “Dodo!”
and I’d come running,
wide-eyed, small,
thinking you knew everything.
In later years, how we’d laugh,
calling each other by joint and bone
“Hello Knees!” you’d say,
“Yes Ankle!” I’d reply,
two creaky parts of life’s great machine,
held together by stories and tea.
Endless talks of “the good ole days”
when sweets were sweeter,
music had meaning,
and life spun slower on simpler wheels.
You, with that sly grin,
dry wit sharp as ever,
teaching me that humour
is sometimes the best kind of love.
Now, as you lie in quieter hours,
know that in my heart,
your voice still calls: “Dodo!”
And I’ll always answer
your mad “knees,”
still thinking of you, always.
Some bonds are timeless 💜
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