Love in a Black Sack

The final leaves of autumn hang from decimated trees

The daybreak mist is lifting; there’s a stiff, refreshing breeze

I hope I’ve timed this dog walk right to try and catch the eye

Of that pretty lady jogger who each morning dances by

But there’s just one thing that’s stopping me and it’s not that I’m too shy

I’ve got a hot steaming dog poo in this bag

I have lay in bed imagining that first time that we speak

Rehearsed my lines a thousand times; refined my opening technique

We’d talk about how beautiful it is this time of year

She’d be standing close, all lycra clad – my inhibitions disappear

But there’s just one part I can’t escape that brings me abject fear

That I’d have a freshly baked dog turd in a bag

There she is! I see her – bounding gleefully this way

I screw my…