I lost my chuckle muscles
became a po-faced bloke —
once humour had deserted me
I couldn’t get the joke.

I never saw the funny side
of best friends’ comic wit —
when they delivered a punchline
I look confused by it.

I failed to find a doctor
who knew what I could take.
I went to see Marie Antoinette –
but she only offered cake.

This went on for months until
a friend suggested dope.
I found the cure by smoking it.
Praise be to god Bob Hope.

Paul Waring is a retired clinical psychologist who once designed menswear and was a singer/songwriter in Liverpool bands. Paul’s poetry has been published in journals and online magazines including Prole, High Window, Atrium, Algebra of Owls, The Curlew, Clear Poetry, Ofi Press, Amaryllis and The Lampeter Review. https://waringwords.wordpress.com