by cricketjeff on August 25, 2010. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
Not drizzle, it’s hosing it down.
My colleagues have started complaining,
There’s quite a good chance they will drown.
This morning the sky was so pretty —
With scarcely a cloud to be seen,
But now the best car for this city
Is a boat or a small submarine.
The street boasts a stream of umbrellas,
From black to the screamingest pink,
And not a few wet suited fellas
Approaching the pub for a drink.
The cars are all spraying these walkers,
Who look unamused if not worse,
The victims as well as the stalkers,
Look daggers and mutter a curse.
If this is the last time you read me,
You better assume that I’m dead.
The poet you choose to succeed me
Will need a more waterproof head!
It’s dampish …