We watch them come, from Cup Day on,
The caravans and tents.
They’ll all be here on Boxing Day.
The foreshore will be dense.
They’re here — street signs are mangled now,
To confuse our whereabouts.
We shrug and sigh, and say aloud,
‘It’s all those holiday louts.’
Picket fences, letterboxes,
Local structures all abused.
We pay the damage someone does
Just to be amused.
The shops are full of trolleys.
They jam up all the aisles,
And queues to all the things we want
Go back for miles and miles.
But wait! We see kids paddling
And playing on the sand,
The bike track’s used by families,
They’re all in Happy Land.
The holidays end, it’s ‘Back to School’,
They’ve packed up in a flash.
So come again you happy lot,
And don’t forget your cash!
Shirley Burgess (Victoria)
First published in Positive Words
No comments:
Post a Comment
Now that Uneven Floor has retired from active publication, no new comments are possible — sorry. You're welcome to share the poem on social media and comment there.
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.