Poets’ Corner – The Finale! (2)

Another ode from our Marilyn – written when she was on the Committee of the SBFI Social Club

AN ODE TO MISCALCULATION

OR

“FORGET-ME-NOT”

When they organise a trip, they always think of me,

Although for some time now I’ve been a member – honorary.

They think of me when organising bowling, shopping too

The committee say “Ask Marilyn” and no one queries “who?”

So off we went to Lakeside, the coach was chock-a-block,

With people, Christmas shopping, for some hankies or a wok.

The coach arrived at 10.00 o’clock; there was a lot to see,

But “a change of plan” the driver said, “be back at 4.30”

I jotted down the coach number before I walked away,

To miss the coach, be left behind, would surely spoil our day.

So on the shuttle bus we climbed, purses at the ready,

Would we buy a video, some records or a teddy?

We spent and looked and spent some more, we ate and had some tea.

We shopped until our feet ached, Paula (my daughter) and me.

The time just ran away with us, it got to five past four,

With Marks & Sparks still calling us, we headed for the door.

We sprinted for the shuttle bus; we saw it moving out,

“There’s another in a minute” we heard the driver shout.

We stood and waited patiently, we knew that time was tight,

But after several minutes, still not a bus in sight.

All the buses came together, queues back to the door,

We clambered on, the bus pulled out; it was twenty five past four!!

The trip went on forever, it seemed more like a tour,

As we pulled into the coach park, Paula yelled “It’s half past four!!”

We fought our way past shoppers, bags flying in the air,

A pensioner went sprawling, but we didn’t really care.

Confidence exuding, we made our way to where,

We knew the coach had left us, to our shock it wasn’t there.

Coaches pulled out round us; I must have looked a clown,

Clutching my piece of paper with the number written down.

Up and down we pounded, the coach we could not find,

Our nightmare was at last confirmed, we had been left behind!

With coaches leaving all the time, whatever could we do,

“Think of something” Paula said, panic was not a word we knew.

It’s strange the things you think of when such tragedies¬† you meet,

I remembered Derek Wilton from Coronation Street.

A flash of inspiration burst into my head,

Surely someone else’s coach could take us home instead.

We looked along the coaches, where were they headed for?

We found one saying “Brighton” and hammered on the door.

“Please help” cried Paula plaintively, “our coach has been and gone”

“I’d like to help” the driver said, “but I’ve only room for one”.

“We’ll manage fine with just one seat, we really do not mind,

To get us back to Brighton would be so very kind”

A nice young man sat on the floor, so we both could have a seat,

Not many of his kind these days, do you perchance to meet.

And the driver was a nice man too, although an awful tease,

When he announced to all and sundry that we were two refugees!

Via Haywards Heath and Burgess Hill, he kept us in suspense,

But at least we were in Sussex, and our relief immense.

I’m not a churchy person, but I said a prayer or two,

When on looking through the window, St Peters came in view.

The moral of this story is clear and plain to see

For Emma to add up right, keep her off the G and T!!!!!

By Marilyn Nolan – thank you Marilyn for all your great poems!!

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