Day of Rest

Form: Quatrains

My ideal as I rise early with the birds
to most I suppose that is quite absurd.
Coffee brewing, the aroma fills the room
sipped slowly over the paper, so full of gloom.

Not that I read the news in the Telegraph,
I like my cryptic as I laze, is that daft?
Laundry in the washing machine, spinning,
everything in order, I think I am winning.

So, while I have a chance, I’m off for a wander,
a musing round the farmer’s market, organic wonder.
Leg of lamb and vegetables for the family roast,
I wish I could get away with just beans on toast.

Fruit for a crumble and fresh clotted cream,
a tad sinful but it does taste like a dream.
Selection of crusty bread and various cake,
I am a working parent; I don’t get time to bake.

Lunch over, the rabble sorted ‘til it’s time for tea,
time for my relaxation with thread, my embroidery.
Quiet solitude, my idea of bliss, and so very rare,
this is my day to be me, without worry or care.

©JG Farmer 2008

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