A Tale Of Sunday Poem by Paul Reed

Our fingers were stained with strawberries
That we had picked from great long rows
Some were really funny shapes
"I've never seen one of those! "

We then sat outside a café
But that's when the drizzle started
I spent twelve quid on coffee and scones
A fool and his money soon parted;

Sunday afternoon drifted slowly away
As we strolled into the empty church
Where my grandson gave an impromptu sermon
Sat at the organists perch;

We bought s huge French meringue
That we looked to feast upon
But it had rather a strange taste,
Was it cinnamon?

Still, the strawberries were great
With raspberries and gooseberries mixed
And next week we'll have a roast chicken dinner
When we get the oven fixed