There once was a young limerick-y,
In my brain t'was beginning to kick-y,
I started to pen it
On limerick tenets,
But junked it because it was icky.
Then I went to Gandhinagar and out of frustration with the heat, wrote this:
An air conditioned room would be posh,
But the prices, oh dear, aren't they tosh!
We keep our doors open
So that we could rope in
Breeze from an AC room right across.
(I am not kidding about the above, the window of the hotel room was 15" by 10"!)
And finally, my tribute to Gorey, as morbid and sadistic a story I could muster from this sensitive soul of mine ...
A rude lady of very great girth,
Ate as if there was ne'er a dearth,
One day at the table 'round
When she was no longer found,
There were great expressions of mirth.