At first I couldn't think of a poem for the next doodle, a partly drawn castle, but then it occurred to me that I am spending my Summer on the Hill, Harrow-on-the-Hill to be precise, as I have done for nine of the last ten years. And then it occurred to me how essentially those ten summers have been interchangeable.
Summer on the Hill
Another Summer on the Hill
With lessons taught and time to kill,
With kids that come from every place,
And run and jump and fight and race,
With beds that are a foot too small,
With weddings in the dining hall,
With mushrooms served for every meal,
With days that merge, become unreal,
With biscuits in the resource room,
With gardens that are in full bloom,
With visits to the only pub,
Within this thriving urban hub,
With one day off to go to town
And gossip of what's going down,
With conversation that's the same
As every other time we came,
With too much time we cannot fill,
Another Summer on the Hill.
No comments:
Post a Comment