A really rubbish poem that doesn't really rhyme...
To London Fields,
You are my favourite green space
Of the week
The leafy city refuge
That I seek
When I've spent the day
At my desk
And need to look at a tree
And reflect
When I've eaten too much
In my house
And need to get out and
Sweat it out
When I've drunk too much
On Friday
And need to breathe fresh air
On Saturday
When the sun's beating down
And it's hot
And I can't stand being stuck
In my flat
When we're having one of those
Sunny weekends
And I need a barbecue and ciders
With friends
When my head's in a state of chaos
Complete
And I need to be somewhere
That's not a street
When I want to see a new old movie
From the Film Shop
And fancy a little stroll
On the way
You are there.
You are there.
But please don't have any more shootings.
With much love.
With much love.
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