Writing a poem.

 
Something to justify the day,
on this in marble lockdown in May,
a billion people cry,
their is no more wonder why.
 
We are being sent out,
a spliff for a spliff, mon;
keep coming on,
with your it will get better,
are you talking about the weather?
 
All that treasure you spent,
to destroy the New Age Convoy,
storks come back to England;
their is another way,
you cannot stop the May.

 
The girl on the supermarket checkout looks frightened.

 
~