Ye Olde Inn

Come in from the cold,

Into Ye Inn of Olde,

It’s so welcome and cosy

and my cheeks are rosy,

I drink half a glass of stout

and think a lot about,

My walk in the park,

It’s starting to get dark.


Through the cemetery I grace,

Find my nan’s resting place.

Later I talk to the shopkeeper,

I thought a bit deeper,

Of what I’m going to do,

I feel I am through

with this episode of pages,

My journey through ages.


I look out of the window,

The snow had to go,

Now I have to leave,

I feel I have to grieve,

In the fading light,

What shall I have for dinner tonight?



By Debbie Wood-Holland.



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