Thursday, 15 February 2018

Tuesday Evening Mid Feb.

It’s that ‘nearly half past five and not yet dark’ time,
That mud and soggy grass and flagstone slime time,
That skidding bringing in the coal and landing in the grime time,
And using washing powder with an enzyme.
It’s that soggy, fatty pancake drenched in lime time,
That acid reflux, Rennie crunching, writing rhyme time,
That wishing one could aim at the sublime time,
But finding that one can’t be arsed to climb. 

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