We're big on recycling here in Guernsey.
I gathered up a handful of words that I found lying about and, with them, built this sonnet.
The high point of the week for one retired
must surely be, oh joy, recycling day:
I wake and, from that moment, feel inspired
to gather sundry plastics and convey
them in a plastic bag out to the gate
along with empty bottles, ah, the shame
for, truth to tell, their quantity is great:
just jam-jars, to my neighbours, I explain.
When all is gathered in and taken out
I feel somewhat deflated and adrift
then, frantically, I start to look about
for fresh recyclables that I might shift.
Recycling is addictive as cocaine.
This time next week I’ll do it all again.
For verse of a different kind, why not visit: https://www.facebook.com/richard.fleming.92102564/
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