They’re a bit like riding a bike
You need to keep the wheels going
Or you’ll fall off and skin your knee
With nothing left for showing.
Maybe they’re more like playing the flute
You’ve got to practice everyday
In case you honk out a discordant note
Which will leave you in disarray.
Perhaps like a bucking bull
Better hold on, enjoy the ride
Don’t fall off in front of the sharpened horns
Or you’ll get speared in the behind.
All in all, to me they’re a duvet
Keeping you warm, happy and snug.
Treat it well and not for granted
And you’ll always love a well quilted hug.