A Rubbish Poem #05

Day dawns bright, skies on fire,

Night retreating on a funeral pyre.

A resurgent sun flames new light,

Holds firm against the black of night.

The cold, the dark, both slip away

Revealing in their wake a chill Tuesday.


Emerging now from the dying gloom,

Adorned in tabards bright as a nuclear bloom.

Their cheer and joy reflects this fresh day

Forwards they press all work, no play.

To remove our guilt and collect our sins,

March those hi-viz men,


the Lords of the Bins.


Gavin Dimmock.

22 October 2019

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