“ ‘The silent seagulls soaring skywards—‘ “
“Ooh! sounds like a poem!”
“Could be.”
“What’s the next bit?”
“The next ‘bit’ is,
‘aloft, upon the breeze, breathless blown—‘ “
“No, it’s a bit too frilly for my liking. Can’t you make it into a Limerick? That would be better.”
“I could, but it would lose any noble quality that it has.”
“That’s as maybe, but it’ll be a lot funnier.”
“Oh, dear. ‘There was a young seagull from Looe,
Who got caught in a ‘How-do-you-do?’,
It welcomed all sorts,
to one of Cornwall’s fishing ports,
and only stopped when the season was through.’ “
“Needs work.”
“Thank you Mr. Poetry Critic.”
“You’re whelks!”
“I suppose I am.”
Graeme Sandford 