Repartee

'God you're grey! '
My rival said.
(I'd taken his favourite
Girl to bed) .

'Not only grey,
You're very fat! '
I shrugged my shoulders,
That was that.

But later on
That selfsame day,
I thought of LOTS
Of things to say

That were so clever;
Much too late!
My only solace now
My hate.

That's no solace,
But you see
I've never been good
At repartee.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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