David Wood (07 April 1950 / London)
Sonnet 67: Heat wave
What I’d give for a nice juicy apple
A green one a red one I do not care
For a cold one I’d even go to chapel
Or failing that I’d have an ice cold pear.
For this heat wave has now gone on for weeks
Sticky prickly days and hot sticky nights
We all listen when the weather man speaks
Lying awake until the morning lights.
The car is now like an oven inside
And the dog is panting in all this heat
And keeping her cool is hard to decide
As she’s always running around my feet.
In times when it rains all we want is sun
But we just get heat waves, and that’s not fun.
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