Just the two of us went this morning,
Two of the three Friday Boys.
Our friend could not come,
He had had a fall and broke two ribs,
But the two of us were there
On these immaculate lawns
And we played,
We played so well,
And with such enjoyment.
Once again on our Friday morning,
Our Friday morning was wonderful,
Playing the game we love so much.
Three games we played
And it was two one to me,
But the score did not matter,
It was playing the game,
The game of croquet,
With my best friend.
-
Author:
Goldfinch60 (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 24th, 2024 01:11
- Comment from author about the poem: Richard and I started playing croquet at the same time and it has led us into becoming best friends.
- Category: Special occasion
- Views: 28
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments7
Good write Gold.
Thanks Orchi.
I could see this coming .. we should all call you Midas 💛👍
No gold found on the croquet lawns yet even when I touch them.
Thank you Neville.
Andy
LOL today is Saturday. 🌹
Are yes and today is Sunday Teddy but we played on Friday.
"Today is the tomorrow that you worried about yesterday"
Andy
Andy – it feels (allowing for different game, different time) like Vitai Lampada - 'Play up! play up! and play the game!'
Very true Dave, we will always play the game.
Andy
At least it's tea in the pavilion after, rather than the second stanza - good for you 😊
Tea and cake I'll have you know. 🍰🍰🍰.
It is not the score in the game that matters when it is with friends it is the company. Very nice Gold
So very true soren, the company is so important in all walks of life.
Andy
Excellent write
Thank you Tony.
Andy
You're welcome
Excellent.
Thank you Thomas.
Andy
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