It may just be the last day,
That I sit and simply muse,
The given art of wordplay,
Is starting to confuse,
I may not solve a problem,
But I may make someone smile,
So for now I’ll keep on writing,
Because that makes it all worthwhile.
I may start making cocktails,
Rather than just drinking beer,
The thought of simply settling down,
With a cocktail, brings me cheer,
Though this means buying odd things,
That I may never use again,
Plus waking up with hangovers,
With Celery in my brain.
Wonderfully warming,
The day’s so very hot,
But people keep on moaning,
Instead of loving what we’ve got.
In this lovely hot fine weather,
I am always quite aware,
That if I take my shirt off,
I’ll be mistaken for a bear.
Where on earth’s the Rainbow,
It’s no longer on my screen,
If it isn’t coming back,
A colourful time’s it’s been.
I’ve had a lovely holiday,
But I feel like such a jerk,
I spent far too much time worrying,
About my flipping work.
I peel away the holiday,
As burnt skin leaves my back,
It’s like the mask I wear to work,
How I long to not go back.
