Brexit Sonnet No. 78 – ‘Trample not this growth’

A gentle breeze; come second wind now blow,
And softly move the corn in fields afar.
Small nods to whispers grow, and talk doth flow
Of votes anew; the door now just ajar.
So People’s Vote doth rise from fresh tilled loam,
A bigger general crop May still yet snap.
Bend your back to bring this harvest home,
And falleth not for Brexit’s fallow trap.
So light the morn, and shine on summer heat,
And fall my dear soft rain, these crops to soak.
Trample not this growth with childlike feet,
Nor permit invasive weeds to spread and choke.
So like and share to aid this growing crop,
And from our future, Brexit quietly chop.

©Keith Murphy