The summer song

We’ll turn into
parchment
or vellum
this heat
is hell on
your skin.

Garters to keep up my socks
pectoral muscles
hard as rocks
a stiff upper lip and
an active mind
i
think you’ll find that
I’m in working order.

Not ready yet for the
knackers yard or for the
great referee to give me
a red card
but the Sun will burn me
as sure as it sets,
it’s not all bad but it’s
as good as it gets.

Fry?
I could die
and
that’s be serious
so
I shall sit in the shade
with some cool lemonade
and play the banjo.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.