We love the days of English summer
The rare precious days when it occurs.
The sit in the sun drinking cold beer days
Get out your shorts, ladies bare armed days.
No threat of rain, proper summers days
When the sun's in the sky,
Not a cloud to be seen
Just summer days.
Sonorous sound of leather on willow
Men in white on village greens.
Today is the rarest of rare, rare days
A day I can see some point in cricket.
It's a day when my island soul
Longs for the sea but so not a day
For the motorway,
Stuck in a jam
And the kids feeling ill.
It's a sit in the garden sipping a beer day
Feeling so glad that today is a summer day.
A walking the streets, wearing a smile day,
A liking the neighbours in love with life day,
A Barbecue smells waft in the air day
A lie in the park, prickled by grass day.
A day to be English, loving our summer day.
I long for and love our rare summer days.
YOU ARE READING
Second Wind
PoetryHighest rank #12 in Poetry Second Wind is an eclectic collection of mostly light hearted poems but often has a serious message and takes the occasional side swipe at politicians and those in power.
