Tuesday, October 08, 2013

Postcards from Havant

seahorse hiding in kelp to escape from 2 car poet who wants to paint it gold

Today I was emailed a questionnaire,
From a hotel that is called The Bear
Which was an inn that I had been in
And white was the colour of its clean linen.

And hot and cold water from the taps there spouts
But traveller beware if you go out
At midnight The Bear’s gate is locked up tight
And so it remains for the rest of the night

So if a guest stays out too late
He or she may wander round in a state,
Unless they have the knowledge and the knack
To go through the carpark, which is round the back.

Then the facts must be told, truth can’t be massaged

You have to enter through The Bear’s back passage.

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