A poem of spring we were asked to write
But when I tried I became wound up tight.
Does it mean green shoots on trees
gently rippling on the breeze
As I wonder , struggle and toil
The mysteries of the helicoil
does it mean some curly steel
Round and round just like a wheel
Or A piece of metal in a lock
A tiny movement in a clock
Does it bounce and move about
Like zebbadee on a round about
Of course you know I like to tease
It’ really is the Fresh young leaves
Crocus, snowdrop, and such spring flowers
Spend some time while away the hours.
Look out of the window have no fear
Rejoice, rejoice now Spring is here.
