It was Potter’s bus, with coal miner’s dust,
that took us to the fair.
Shiny, threadbare, hardly-seats,
we thump-bumped mal de mer.
White-knuckled hands,
the promise of stares in focus.
We’re there! We're there! The wide-eyed looks.
Now for some raucous, hocus-pocus!
No comments:
Post a Comment