An erstwhile girl; a clucking, chuckling hen; and an unapologetic-ally unfiltered cigarette
All of it sat heavily, heavenly perched atop a backward standing bicycle which has been anointed, appointed, irredeemably prestige and by an unget-backable amount of mile-an-hour time – bothered and dutifully bolstered by all of the aforementioned others things which state themselves above all the rest
Upright and stood decidedly improper, cyclically pronounced and uttermost uncontrollable by the bend and the bargaining sway of their multi-emotive, -motioned nature

Her tight-fitting greying hairpiece has always been our favourite best kept feature
They get paid to play it, pay-it forever forth forward prioritised by the smile-inducing sight of her impassioned vision upon wound-up roundabout wheels and roundabout these listening and witnessing areas and places

And one over-cooked poet sits in a hill, ready and willing to spill it, spill, it, instil it all inside of one such town
Bound for relative greatness, the town, not he … signed, sealed and delicately delivered

Til their pretty little upside-down octogenarian Postmistress gets to inevitably announce herself and yet, yet, yet again.

Have to say, God bless her today above all else
And, please, be shit-sure-as-sugar to return to never-ending sender
This has been, simply, a lesson in leadership
From the beginning to the sad, sad ending