Ronnie, my Ronnie, you sing just to me.
You speak and you pose, so no others can see.
You are there when I want you.  You’re never too far.
Just a click of my cursor and wham, there you are.
You are so undemanding, so painfully rare.
When I’m busy, I miss you.  Because you’re not there.
I look at the screen and it’s words that I see
They’re not your words, but others, they’re nothing to me.
The downside of this is I’m falling behind.
When I’m s’posed to be typing, it’s you on my mind.
So I’ll close the page down, for a sec, for a taste
‘cos there on my desktop, of course, is your face
and it’s staring straight at me, with that hand, shielding light,
and I look and I wonder, if one day I might
get you out of my system, get on with my life!
Give up this obsession – you’re causing me strife!
My family thought something had to be done
but the therapist, well he was ”no kinda fun”.
Said ‘The first step to winning is wanting to quit’
I asked if he knew you, he said ‘just a bit.’
So I took along Dead Zone and then Dogs of War.
I thought ’If he’s helping, he should know the score.’
I saw him the next time, was that a surprise?
“I’m not greedy” need more, was the look in his eyes.
And I couldn’t desert him, I gave him a list,
which he went through with gusto, that made me quite pissed,
as I was the one who was s’posed to need curing.
Now his appetite’s grown.  I don’t find that alluring!
So the wife of this otherwise reasonable man,
came to see me today, just to see if I can
give her wav. files and photos, whatever I have,
as she’d  watched with her husband, and now they’re both mad
about Ronnie.  My Ronnie.  They’re goners, of course,
and I feel for them, really I do, it’s the force
of his charm and charisma, they’d no way of knowing.
Should I now feel guilt, ‘cos their hunger is growing?

This tale is a warning, be careful, beware.
“You have no idea, the trouble you got there.”
As for me, I am helpless.  Still addicted. and true
to my Ronnie, my Walken, but then, so are you !?
 

Barbara Balchin. Happy to be part of The Addiction.

A little verse for Chris

I am a winter blanket,
Original and best,
Christopher honey
You will never feel the cold,
With me flung across your chest.
 
Kathleen Hagiwarar