Noise.

It's too noisy to write rhyme,
Why is it noisy all the time?
It starts the minute I get up,
From workies shouting out for help.
Then the banging and their drill,
Goodness grief, I've had my fill
Of living beside a building site.
Two years of noise, try as I might,
Get some peace. Impossible.
Plus dirt and dust from the rubble,
Covers surfaces really quick.
Of polishing, I'm bloody sick.
From eight 'til five, I'm listening to,
Language, turning the air blue.
At five, I think 'Ah this is great'.
Seconds later, outside our gate,
The youngsters, on their mopeds roar.
I feel my blood pressure soar.
The dogs are barking. This is crap.
I need some peace. I'm in a flap.
Can't write my rhyme, I have no choice.
It's far too noisy. Can't hear my voice.
Above the racket in our house.
I scream like I will blow a fuse........
..........................................................
..........................................................
The dogs are silent. The bikes have gone.
It's bed~time now. Here's to the morn!

by Lizzy Tomlinson

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