Thursday, 7 July 2011

WALKABOUTSVERSE 58 OF 230

Poem 58 of 230:  THE OLD BULL

Walked along Fog Lane,
    Looked at the park,
Stopped in the Old Bull
    And had a hark,
While eating lunch,
    On how, at dark,
Many years before,
    My father’s lark,
There, was games of darts -
    I’d filled an arc.

(C) David Franks 2003