Summers

He will be forever synonymous

With my summer holidays.

After lie-ins and late breakfasts,

I would watch the sun lazily

Burn off the morning's dewy chill.

The hands on the clock 

Would tick by languidly,

Increasing the anticipation.

As eleven approached, the scent

Of my brewed coffee wafted hazily,

And crumbs of chocolate digestives

Would scatter in laconic fashion

Upon my plate.

And then the music that lifts;

The soul, the portal, the limbo,

Between before and after.

Followed by the voice that oozed

Summers and relaxation and temperament.

Setting the pace for the day's play

Of calming Cricket.