07-06-2021, 02:39 PM
1
Summer
Towel spread upon the sand,Taut muscles, suntanned skin,
To get a natural look like this,
Takes hours in the gym.
Plump, clotted cream fed backsides,
Earn women an admiring look,
A man’s wife sees him watching,
Whacks his head with her book.
Strolling on the promenade,
Lovers walking hand in hand,
Tossing coins in to the fountain,
Listening to a one-man-band.
Skaters race along the seafront,
Dodging in and out the crowd,
A Traffic Warden berates a driver,
“Parking here is not allowed”.
Ice creams melting in the sun,
Seagulls swooping from the sky,
Flapping wings, a stolen flake,
Makes a small child cry.
Sat, eating pasties on a wall,
Skin burnt lobster red,
An old man in a deck chair,
A hanky on his head.
Caravans stuck in narrow lanes,
Tempers rise, men shout,
A farmer on her tractor,
To pull the grockles out.
Roadside signs to draw the eye,
“Farmhouse Scrumpy sold by here”,
Barbecues upon the beach,
People drinking fizzy beer.
Picnics up on top the Tor,
The Levels down below,
Where Summer Settlers once farmed the land,
Then left when it did snow.
Bed and breakfast, glamping huts
Campsites in the rain,
Tourists flock down from the North,
It’s summer time again.
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