When men from wandering ways recover,
They’ve sampled life unto the dregs,
Then they limp back home to mother,
Same old tail between their legs.
They lie and contemplate their follies,
They dream of sowing what they’ll reap,
They twitch like ageing border collies,
Herding bimbos in their sleep.
(Previously published in Mary Cresswell, Nearest and Dearest, Steele Roberts 2009)