Month: April 2020

Well it’s back to work,
It was good for a while though,
Should have been longer.

No train to catch though,
Just sort out my small office,
And get comfy there.

A big mug of tea,
Or coffee will do the trick,
In my green Greek mug.

The days go quickly,
One long weekend is ending,
And back to work soon.

The day’s overcast,
Gone are those warm sunny days,
They will be back though.

The bud shoots reach out,
Seeking sunlight, and grow out,
A green canopy.

Wow, What a morning,
Lovely with the sun shining,
And a mug of tea.

Music is playing,
My favourite songs, so good,
Just go with the flow.

The spring blossoms bloom,
In shades of green clean and fresh,
New life springing forth.

The joy of its warmth,
The explosion of its taste,
Oh, coffee my drink.

Watering the plants,
They seem to need a good drink,
Looking very dry.

The sprinkler rainbow,
Is cast across the garden,
Brings colours alive.

I’m just having fun,
Taking time to enjoy the sun,
What else could I do?

I enjoy a rhyme,
It’s that sound so comforting,
But not too cosy.

The day’s fantastic,
The sun’s shining and birds sing,
What a joy it brings.

Time is ticking by,
Can you live a second in time,
Now, Now and yes, Now.

I’m selling domains,
Some are good and some are not,
There is one for you.

The sky was light blue,
The clouds were white and puffy,
Just a springtime sky.

I’m tired of weekdays,
They don’t work for me at all,
Though I work for them.

Easter time is here,
Is it just the eggs you like?
Or just omelettes.

I have closed it down,
Unplugged and stowed it away,
My work computer.

Here’s a little quiz!
What is black and dangerous,
And goes up and down?

The pink moon turned blue,
Its pinkishness saw by few,
And it was quite small.

Loosing or saving,
Yes, I am and I am not,
The piggy bank’s gone!

The sun in the sky,
And all the birds flying by,
Make this a nice place.

Papers blow away,
A stone weight makes a few stay,
But the pen has gone.

The door blew open,
And scattering some letters,
That lay on the mat.

Boots thick with wet mud,
Where has that come from? I ask.
I’m met with silence.

There was a pink moon,
And I photographed it too,
There behind a cloud.

In desperation,
I try and climb the sheer walls,
Slipping ever down.

The moon drifts around,
The evening, night and dawn sky,
Hiding behind clouds.