I Don't Believe For A

Women Run The Small Country Called Home, Millions Of Us Do It In Our Spare Time, And No One Who Doesn't Run That Small Country Really Knows What It Feels Like In The Dead Of Night When Task Lists Jitter Like Tickertape Through Your Seething Brain.

No Man Would Ever Use Both Hands To Hold A Cup Of Tea, Unless He Was One Day's March From The South Pole, With One Chum Dead In The Snow, Dogs All Eaten And Six Fingers About To Drop Off. And Even Then He Would Look Around The Empty Tent To Check, In Case Anybody Thought It Was Girly.

I Forget The Derivation Of Boxing Day, But The Feeling Of Wanting To Invite Your Loved Ones Outside One At A Time And Punch Them In The Face, Does That Come Into It Somewhere?

In Death, We Are Not Defined By What We Did Or Who We Were But By What We Meant To Others. How Well We Loved And Were Loved In Return.

A Father Is The Template Of A Man Nature Gives A Girl