Poetry

Hats, spurs and belts

Holiday again.

School’s out.

We’re in the car

and the music is playing;

Dr Hook laments and

Dolly Parton sews.

Are we there yet?

Mum nods off.

We eat sugar.

Dad adjusts his hat.

The motorway is our horse

but we have no spurs.

Instead, we sit

and wait.

Still, country plays

telling us of past disasters

and loves

with a twang.

This poem is inspired by the daily prompt. 

 

 

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16 thoughts on “Hats, spurs and belts

  1. Pingback: B.Kaotic

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