We stood in the queue, as in life
Waiting patiently for our turn
The sun shone down on our backs
Trying it's best to burn;
As protection against future onslaught
Our figures were wreathed and caped
‘Blackpool Pleasure Beach' was announced
On our plastic ponchos proudly draped;
But as the minutes passed, you grew silent
Something was clearly amiss
You were afraid, no longer excited,
Not quite ready for this;
The numbers in front dwindled
The forthcoming test grew nearer
Suddenly we no longer craved the thrill
Normality suddenly seemed much dearer;
So, with as much dignity as could be wrought,
Not noticed by many, I hope
We discreetly left the others to ‘Valhalla'
And ducked out under the rope
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem