Will the Spring weather ever appear?
Or are we doomed to spend our lives bathed beneath a blanket of grey?
Hovering in the gloom between Winter and Summer, as the rain lashes against the windows the way piss lashes against the urinals in the staff toilet at work?
Has March always been this wet and windy?
Or are we being given a special treat this year?
Suffering sub-zero temperatures as an inverted reward for celebrating the Queen’s Jubilee so happily?
Are we being punished?
And if we are, why am I adding to everyone’s punishment by punishing them further with this punishingly painful poem? A poem that uses the word ‘punish’ in its many forms way more often than it uses any recognisable structure or talent?
Should I go back to writing limericks?
Should I limit myself to haiku?
Should I give up on everything for always?
Should I…?
Happy St Patrick’s Day, by the way…
RC 17-3-13
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