One In Seven

Ticks imperceptibly further from tocks Sally-anne gracefully brushing her locks Perusing the papers in yesterday's socks One eye on the news on the old goggle box Lawns that want mowing, maybe today No firm decision on that, either way The daffies sway gentle their livery gay As early the spring edges out winter grey Wave at the neighbour out washing his car Seems in no hurry, he's not going far Exaggerate motion of tipping a jar Inviting a post dinner trip to the bar Somebody passing outside shares a laugh While yellow billed blackbird agitates bath Fido brings slippers, wife calls him staff Then aerates the logs to enliven the hearth Upon us the day when no desk shall tether And only the mower shall fret over weather A shower means trim the lawn next week or never Well maybe not never, simply whenever Dinner now served at family table Sneak Fido a tidbit whenever I'm able Courteous chat with mum in law, Mable Kids stifle giggles, she's slightly unstable Now Mable snoring, I do the dishes Kids drying up conceal Facebook wishes Mum by the pool sprinkles pellets for fishes Whimsically lost in multi-finned swishes And when gibbous moon gives off scant shadow light And gone is the sun that shines somewhere else bright Retire to our slumbers prepare for the fight Batteries energise over the night For five days or six we shall toil away Earn twenty four hours to rest and to play So never forfeit the day some people pray This one day in seven, the Sabbath, Sunday.