The Itch



Back scratching at Kadri Park 

The greatest torture-

That itch on your back.


Your fingers don’t reach,

Your short nails miss

And the itch grows big,

A sadistic demon,

Sniggering whilst you twist and squirm

And scream for help.

Your helper, the Good Samaritan,

Amused, unsympathetic,

Runs his fingers along your spine

While you instruct in frustration,

“Not there, here

Not here, there

Scratch higher

No, a bit lower

Aaaaaaaaah, right there, scratch harder!”

But the more the scratching,

The more the itching


It now jumps like an imp

From one part of your hapless back

To another remote part

The Good Samaritan laughs.

It’s a good joke.


Fret not! No itch is eternal!

It comes and goes

Like all things in life.

A visitor of a short time!

So bear it and grin!

Although the photo is recent, the poem was written years ago. I found it recently in my hard disk and thought I would share it here. 


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