BogRhymes

Afraid to let go of that hand,
A daunting day for some.
The kids?
No, they are grand,
I’m talking about Dad and Mum.

A summer almost over,
One not to remember!
Don’t look over your shoulder,
Go straight to September!

Creeping up,
Peeking up,
Like a huge torch,
Sneaking up.

Buy a pig in swill
With less,
Than a poke.

A country will
Ingest,
What a joke.

Standing to attention the cypress trees,
Guarding homes with terracotta roofs.
For a short few days just one of these,
Is our home far away from home truths.
Gazing out on sun baked wheaten fields,
Rolling hills are crowned with town jewels.
For a few short days near one of these,
We are kings holding court like fools.