England in the Summer Time

Glittering skin, the sun screen sheen
Bronze torso, firm and trim
Can this be England?

In the summer time
Youth strutting
Well groomed, showing their prim

Parisian cafe sprawl
Across Albion’s pavement
Shoppers in bright colours
Flit from shop to shop

Lazily stroll beneath azure skies
If it wasn’t for those little clouds
And buskers busking out of tune
Would I believe I was home?

Posted: Thursday, June 2nd, 2011 @ 9:44 pm
Categories: Poems.
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