Summertime pome

In misty childhood days I yearned
To cast a clout ere May was out.
And also asked but never learned
Why England suffered from a drought.

As mem’ries of those days inform,
It always rained when, armed with spades,
We took a sandy beach by storm
And sheltered in between our raids.

Or home again we often fought
To win the Ashes; I’d be Len
And you’d be Don bowled out for nought
Until the rain stopped play again.

And all too soon I’d go to bed
In darkness, happy to forget
Those sleepless Summer hours; my head
Now filled with school and no regret.

Author: Janus

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