early summer

early summer

and also did the rancid sun

the daisies spill the piebald lawn

and every blossom known to man

wrestled dark thoughts brightened dawn

for it is late april once again

again all the clichés bloom anew

and all our tears dry even as they flow

as dances dancing across the dew

with you Leander across the bluebell lakes 

the forget-me-nots the potted plants

the ladder buds of these days of haze

when grown men wear shorts and not worsted pants

and old couples kiss like they used to do

and walk down memory lane’s cliché

may it never end as they say ‘i will’ again

and their wrinkled skin colours to red maché 

one breath of pollen

one taste of spring’s bouquet 

and the clat of the hammer

slow score an evening’s crochet

where the Cam sails past 

on gay punts with boaters

swallows skimming over the

pond skaters and the floaters

rest aside a poem written half

or a book of poetry laid aside

as eyelids heavily under buzzings close

and float away on the day’s repose

for dusk is spooning the lovers hearts

as hand in hand the couples depart

for now the rancid sun 

is cut to the chase by the cheesy moon

and blossoms merge with nighttime stars

for the maypole has run away with mars
and our salad days down to evening run

as we float upon Halcyon’s blue lagoon
and let slip our brightly coloured balloon