Light traffic on fast roads
Dazzling sunshine, a welcome fresh breeze
Touching the picture-perfect landscape
Fields, hills, brooks, trees
An Easter jaunt
For the non-religious
Worshipping sport
Not too sacrilegious
Living on nerves
I really ought not to
Racked up too many miles
And so much money gone through
So much of my life
Sat in the cold
Too invested in the outcome
If the cold, hard truth be told
Enabling a hobby
To be of too much import
It’s not life or death
It’s just my children’s sport
I can’t exactly pinpoint
When it stopped being fun
Yet I know the day’s approaching
When I’ll finally say I’m done
And I’ll mean it!
Poetry for Dullards 