I’m in love with Keeley Donovan,

weathergirl extraordinaire.

I love her figure-hugging dresses,

cheeky smile and silky hair.

I love the way she can’t stand still,

rocks back and forth, sways side to side.

I love the fact she’s just a very

tiny little bit cross-eyed.

 

I’m in love with Keeley Donovan.

I hate it when Paul Hudson’s on.

I’ve sat through half a boring hour

of garden gnomes and knit-a-thons,

then he shows up and my heart sinks.

All I want is lovely Keeley.

I switch him off, I couldn’t give

a toss about the forecast really.

 

I’m just in love with Keeley Donovan.

She’s the sun that warms my heart.

She’s the storm within my soul,

the bolt of lightning through the dark,

but Keeley - I don’t think that you

and I can ever be together,

if you don’t stop banging on

and on about the bloody weather.

 

(From the pamphlet, 'Killing the Piano'. This poem was also included in 'The People's Republic of Poetry', published by Ossett Observer)