The Cream
Of the crop.
It’s the season when good reason,
Flies, right out the window,
Open the doors and let the breeze in,
And let the love winds blow.
Don’t ever stop the cream of the crop,
Is there just for the picking,
No need to look around or shop,
The clock is slowly ticking.
Summers here, have no fear,
The fruit is ripe and ready,
It seems to me it’s crystal clear,
All is there already.
Peaches, plums and perfect bums,
Breasts tipped with sweet cherries,
And I know when the time comes,
Some sing just like canaries.
I have no doubt it’s time to flout,
Humour and goodwill,
That is what it’s all about,
Now I know the drill.
In between the pastimes,
Enough is not enough,
A stirring of the enzymes,
It’s time, my sweet cream puff.
Eat it on a stick or spoon,
To my satisfaction,
Now, is never much too soon,
To enjoy the attraction.
Once I start, I cannot stop,
The feeling is so good,
To enjoy the cream of the crop,
As I know I should.
©
David Rudder
2023
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