Today’s poem

FIREWORKS

The fireworks start up again With flashes in the air Like that proverbial smoking gun With sparks flying everywhere. An atmosphere of clashes Just like a lightning crack As someone lights the touchpaper And everyone steps back. A bonfire of vanities Is stoked, teased and goaded And will not settle down to ashes Until the room has exploded. The air is tense and fuming With scheming and a plot And a glorious day in history Is something it is not! It’s nothing to do with the time of year And nothing to do with the date, It’s nothing to do with bonfire night — It’s another Brexit debate!

S. Webb, Chesham, Bucks.