Hot water bottle, hot water bottle

So simple and so fine

It brings me lots and lots of joy

That you warm these feet of mine.

(by me, today)

My poetry in its awfulness makes me think of one of my favourite group of characters, the Feegals from Terry Pratchett’s Wee Free Men.  In their clan, they have a gonnigal, who is the story teller, the player of the mouse pipes, and the battle poet.  As the battle poet, the gonnigal will spout bad poetry, loudly, driving the foe away with their desire to escape the agony of hearing the poetry.  My poem, although bad, is truly heartfelt.  My daughter, with the help of her father, delivered a hot water bottle to warm my feet.  Happiness is warm feet.