Those Wednesdays.

Such a shame it comes but once a month

But there is always only one last Wednesday,

In every month.

What days they are though!

They start off as usual

Like every other day.

The mornings go by casually

Until lunch is eaten,

And then the pleasure starts.

I go to the poetry group

And we regale each other

With poems of all types,

Mostly written by our members,

Interspersed with written works.

A group of diverse people,

Who come together

For their love of verse.

Such a brilliant afternoon.

Home I drive mind full of poetry.

I sit down with my beloved lady

For our early evening meal.

We are full of excitement

As we are going out tonight.

We are off to the jazz club,

That place where the wonder of jazz

Lifts our spirits

And quickens our hearts.