My soles in need of ointment,
requested for more pain,
thus, with a-wry grimaced face;
such bane; was made again,
where to go? Was questioned,
as boots and tarmac gripped,
we know just the place to go,
the site that had the tip!
So; granting footsie wish,
I paced; with sweaty cotton,
towards the whir; of old machines,
that filled the bins of Cotham.
Stepping down; long Hawton Road,
fish shop; wafted charm,
seduced my nose; and made it blush,
a cause for such alarm,
with subsequent evasion,
my gait; was stopped; by gate,
for temporary signals; meant,
strollers, should negate, I then
looked for a bypass,
nothing could be found,
this wasn’t hiker friendly; such a
sticky re-laid ground,
turned about; I did,
whilst staring at my feet,
“sorry, my two fellows,
to tally such defeat!”
Yet, through a quaint estate,
one re-met the Sconce,
upon it; danced the people,
who swayed; such warm response.