I’ll give ‘Larkin’ a miss this Whitsuntide,
And all Verse of ‘Byron’ I’ll set aside,
For the Bells are ringing from a Church nearby,
That tell of ‘I do’ and that Mother’s cried.
And onto polished shoes, confetti blows,
As by the door the family pose,
For so begins from Oaths avowed,
The joys of life that fate endows.
Then; creepy faintly within my room,
A lark is heard that lifts the gloom,
It’s calling tune is Natures play,
To find a mate by song displayed.
It’s known by Couples that walk the Park,
Hand-in-Hand with the ensuing dark.
Lost forever in the enclosing flow,
Of whispered talk and Love to show.
To the Rhythms and Beat across the night,
From the gathering of Souls by Neon-Light.
The gut-filled Laughter that’s life-induced ,
To be away from cares with friends seduced.
Now the dust-motes weave in failing light,
And the ‘Ticking Clock’ does tellingly Strike,
To speak wasted Hours, now lost, now gone,
In Silent Rooms and my drink for one.