313 – Ode To The Rooftops

Poem number 313
.
Ode To The Rooftops
.
Oh rooftops. You are pointy
With your chimneys and your peaks
If I fell from you down to the ground
My bones would hurt for weeks.
.
High above the shopping folk
Your gutters catch the rain
And sometimes, when they’re overfull
They spit it out again.
.
Oh rooftops. Lovely rooftops.
Please accept my fond regard
If I was a chap that went for roofs
I think you’d make me hard.

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