Dorset Blandford..Bank Holiday...Pub Reach Poem by karen sinclair

A golden brown solid bare back of masculine definition stands defiant to a crisp new sun
Hands clasping spritely orange ocre bubbles as live music pounds to the beat of life
A well fed dog saunters through the shadowed ally smiling and wagging at the release of his leash
As I sip soda water and wine on a wooden bench beneath the public house sign of The Greyhound
Children in daisies and wellies skip by
Neathe the loving eyes of mothers and fathers who'd not rather be anywhere else
An ancient man with trousers taut
Held rasping to the highest point those biege pants could be tethered
Reminds me never to pull my pants too high
Too much smiles and smirks for my mischief eyes
All heading for the fete
Where young army bandstand trumpet abuse to my sensitive ears

Wheelchairs and walking sticks struggle
Pon cobbled floor
Young flesh and kisses arm in arm
Refreshed in the adoration of this year
This fresh new sun
It's their sun
Their summer
To while away the moments of new love
As the sweating landlord clambers over coffee supping pensioners
Removing last nights Union Jack bunting
It was a good night
Last night
He smiles under his breath
Remembering his lovely wife
Drank more than she was meant
So we follow the rabble
The normal
The dog packs and...
The hoy- paloy
On through the alley
And one golden smiled little boy
To apple bobbing
And sack racing
Treasure hunts
And people made of sticks
Was quite honestly a let down
So we trotted off back to camp
Quick