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TRASH

Looking forward to Christmas ? This is a poem about the aftermathPiled high against the back doorin the kitchen of our houseIs the rubbish from our Christmas -In the States they call it TRASHThe postman’s brought us cataloguesin triplicate I seeand my daughter’s had a turn outPraise be to her from meBut why does the bin-ward journeyend prematurely at the door ?This morning there’s a howling galeand lashing sleet filled rainA real sou’wester visitand it’s happened once againWho makes the bin-ward journeyfrom the back door to the bin?Yes, you’ve got it brother —It’s ’er indoors again !

Journal Comments

  • Dorothy Venter
  • TrEaSuReDiMaGeS