Sheila Charles SORRY SORRY SORRY
When I was growing up, if ever I did something wrong,
I used to say “Well, it’s the way to get along.
But my dad, regular as clockwork, always used to say,
“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again.” It would rub me up the wrong way!
Because one of the problems with me
Is that I do things again and again,
Like failing to take my umbrella
When it definitely looks like rain.
Whenever I get crumpets,
I turn the toaster on high
then forget to turn it back down.
What does that dignify?
So when I next come to put bread in.
(It’s not something of which I can boast,)
My house, more often than not,
Smells of burning toast.
I plan what I’ll have for the evening meal
But then I’d completely forget
To fetch the meat out of the freezer.
then the family got upset
When I said, “Dinner’s late. I’ve to defrost the joint.”
There may even be a veiled threat!
Another thing I’ve been known to do,
I switch the wrong element on
And heat up a pan lid that’s lying there.
That made me woebegone!
Because I’d burn my fingers and yell out in pain.
Yet I can bet you any money, I would jolly well do it again.
I CAN STILL HEAR FATHER’S VOICE
ALTHOUGH HE’S BEEN DEAD MANY YEARS,
“Don’t be sorry. Don’t do it again.” It still rings in my years!
(Then on rubbish day, I would put it out too soon
So I occasionally put the wrong one out and still see it there at noon!
You can’t always go by the neighbours as it has sometimes been known
For them to put one out too so in that I am not on my own.)
illustration by ume-nori
