Poems

You’re as young as you feel, or so they say, I wish my body agreed

Truth is that with every passing year, a bit more of me goes to seed...

Tent pegs and foot pumps, a hammock and tree swing

Airbeds and sleeping bags, the kettle starts to sing...

Long dark tunnel, the beat of a drum   

I take a deep breath, then see them come...

Day after day of endless grey and relentless rain

Then the weatherman announced longed for sunshine again...

Once upon a moonlit night, when the world was hushed and still

One by one they made their way, to gather on Hatchling Hill...

I wave my red flags, about the weight I am asked to bear 

Yet still you have me be this, do that, come here and go there...