Chance would be a fine thing. Poetry from the pen of

~The Poet’s Poet~

Early this morning the sky had a greyish face

Placing a decaying look upon our village space

Deep breath, smile on the face

He drifted into his work space

Wake up the clock silently tick-tocked

As he sidled up to the coffee dock

Fingers twiddling knobs

Toaster burning hob nobs

He tiptoes to another room

Burying thoughts of doom and gloom

Radio blasts out talks of Brexit

He switches channels, time to exit

The talk now in banquet-halls

Amid those annoying cat calls

Was for some respectable noise

From the mouth of politicians, now that would surprise.

© Chris Black. March 2019

#Poetry #amwriting #pleasenomorebrexit