iBaroque

my dearest elizabeth returned

home from manchester disappointed that

the hacenda had closed

something to do with new factory acts

she had only gone for 

a few new tracks and

some of doctor johnson’s vocabulary pills

but alas it was not to be

so she was back home with me in

the candle gloom doing girly things

playing with our hair needlepoint and

giggling without a care

we had drunk three bottles of tesco’s cider

fantising that if lord nelson was still alive

he would capture for us a small island 

concievably he could invade ibzia in a 

day or even in his lunch hour then sit back 

with a brandy soaked laugh and a big fat cigar

studying neuvoux riche investment portfollios

with which we could build space and passion 

in the creamfields 

for fun in the sun away from our routines

of tedious teas and charity deeds

to a place where we could step out 

and be truly carefree

not stuck in smokey london playing charades

in rhythm with grime

© 2014  by iDrew

First published  Picaroon Poetry  23/03/16