Boxes of snore, law and war

Old soldiers in days of yore

 

Endless revising for the school dance

Go West across the park and guess

Who Fred could be

 

The black lab drags behind

Whilst a parrot swears

The social workers say it's OK

 

Not that I'd wish it on his people

But isn't it a shame that Kim

Can't have the wrath of Irma -

Or was it him that caused it?

 

Out of the box are the broken nails

Of our youth, to scatter

To be caught by future poets

 

Flying like an eagle across the change

Of seasons leaning across the counter

of Poundland

 

Arms full of stolen apples

We trespass into the future tense.