That Stupid

 

It was a Sunday

Kind of Saturday,

Everything as quiet

And lonely as the statue

Dressed in the Santa Claus

Suit and beaten by the wind,

A cold wind

Hinting of snow

And things to come,

Even the street people

Were missing from the ally

And under the tree on the corner,

It was as if

I had missed an

Evacuation order,

I sat with a cup of Wuyi

Rock and wondered about

The rumours of World War Three,

That stupid

We can’t be until

I see they’re releasing

War Horse on Christmas Day,

Yes we are, yes we can be

 That stupid.

 

Stephen Nesbitt ©

.

Index      Previous Page      Next Page