The Councils’ grass cutting is
Now in full swing.
The Gang Mower is driven by a young man,
Who imagines himself, Jenson Button?
Driving a Formula 1 car.
He sweeps down the straight,
Goes wide on the corner.
This year's Spring has resulted in
Excess production of Dandelions, whose
Flowers are hastily and cruelly removed,
To be thrown high into the air.
For a few moments, the flower
Heads rained down on me.
Like bright, brilliant yellow confetti.
The driver swept on at maximum speed
To complete another lap of his
Imagined race track.
I stood there, like a deserted Bride
Left alone at the Altar.
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