As I continue to struggle with sciatica pain in my left leg, my wife did not hesitate to invite the neighborhood to our house to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Since this event happened over a week ago, I’ve since met with my surgeon and have a L4-L5 spinal fusion scheduled for next week. Wish me Luck!

St. Pat’s 

A party for 60,

Your husband a gimp.

No help from him,

He walks with a limp.

No luck from the Irish,

You organized it all.

Then cleaned it all up,

And repaired the wall.

You made it look easy,

Took time for bridge.

Dyed the beer green,

Sliders in the Fridge.

You’re the party queen,

In your grass skirt.

You make me proud,

Even when I hurt.

Not a true Limoges,

Though at least made there.

No “Peint Main” mark,

As I’m sure you’re aware.

Our cash cupboard is bare,

Did the best that I could.

So I honor Twenty-six,

With this poem, as I should.

Another Limogesaversary,

The first was Ninety-Nine.

Soon a Queen Nation concert,

For the date I made you mine.

I love you more,

Each and every day.

Here’s to remembering,

A Happy St. Pat’s Day.