Tired and lonesome in this cold shield

The crops have dried yet it is damp in this field

A hasty man lets out a long awaited sigh

There is a great ugly spider climbing up my thigh

 

The wind is windy yet the sun is cold

The walls i live within is riddled with mould

 

I try to stay warm yet all of my jumpers are wet

There are no coats hung up, there are no blankets left

Splatters of melted butter are stuck to my plate,

From the crumpets I ate on an earlier date

 

The dishwasher needs emptying, the towels aren’t drying

It is too cold to open my windows, there is no point in trying

The sun is shining yet my home is dark

I think this poem has lost its spark