Till They SparkleBy Mike Brooke
The house stands tall and Georgian proud.
All red brick and square set windows
That must be cleaned. The London crowd
Are coming, a bunch of arty weirdos
Five hundred different panes of glass
Dusty, smeared with spiders work
High up the wall my ladders fast
The sweat sticks to my shirt.
The pros have come to do the church
I ask them what’s the secret
To windows free of streaks and dirt
They answer “Fairy bloody liquid”.
3 thoughts on “Till They Sparkle”
Hi, happy belated Easter!!
Poor old Mr Gato, could have sold him to us and we could have picked up the legacy!!
Hope all is well! Hayley still looking as good!
Cc’ing P so he can reply Xxx
Sent from my iPhone
Hi Lisa and Peter
I was just reminiscing about “the good ol’ days” which, of coure, we remember very fondly (including long nights with you two). Keep well.
My English is unfortunately not good enough to understand all the subtleties, but I am happy to meet a poet among my friends. But still, 500 windows to clean, better remain poet !