The train journey and the hairy top lip

Hello again,

So I know I've already posted today but I'm new and so treated the last as a practice round. That and I just drew a picture.

Sat on the train watching the beautiful sunny countryside go by, a little something caught my peripheral vision.... THE HAIRIEST TOP LIP I HAVE EVER SEEN (and therefore the hairiest top lip in the world). I wrote a poem about it literally behind the woman's back. It was covert, short lived and unplanned. I don't proclaim to be the next Byron I just scribbled in my special book in carriage D. 

To the woman with the hairiest top lip in the world.

I'm sorry dear lady

but surely you've noticed

the caterpillar perched on your top lip.

OK, so you're old

and have a bad hip,

a sufferer of 'old age' no less

'hip' than a Kath Kidston blanket.

And yes you could thank it,

that little bug he's snuggled right there

as if your face were a rug...

or that Kath Kidston blanket.

Your eyes are blue yet grey

and betray your kind nature.

Just abandon the wildlife on your top lip,

who's on a facial venture.

But maybe you're a kinder heart than me.

Mr Caterpillar is now part of the family. 

Every dinner he cuts the roast chicken or beef or whatever you're eating

At bed you synchronise each other's snores you 'uuuuggghhhh' and he 'hooooorrgghhh'.

I'm sorry dear lady

you must have noticed dear 'Cati' on your top lip.

But I understand the relationship you do share,

and I think it's lovely how much you care.

Second thoughts.... better keep him there. 

Et voila! That was my slapdash poem I wrote yesterday sur le train. Hope it didn't assault your eyeballs.

p.s She looked nothing like the picture I drew. Which turned out to be a cross between Queen Victoria and Granny from Looney Tunes.