The Heat

London swelters.

The heat wont last for long,

It never does.

But for now we sit under shaded bower,

The lawns a no man's land of grass,

That is slowly turning brown under the sun.

There is promise of record heat,

And bbq summers.

The cold east wind off the river is now a saviour,

Not the curse word on everyone's lips,

Like it was 2 months ago.

"That wind!"

The words are the same but the meaning is different.

Tomorrow it will rain.

But now we stand outside pubs,

And sit in parks.

Avoiding the full rays of sun,

But still enjoying her heat.