Do you ever think it takes a certain someone?
A certain someone to do a certain thing
But what if I am not that certain someone?
The more I doubt it the more certain I’m not him

What if I am just another faker?
A lone wolf, on the wrong side of the fence
An accidental, slightly mental impostor
Who made you fall in love with my pretense!

Whilst kicking  through the autumn leaves
A little boy runs by
Oops I found a doggy poo
And kicked it in his eye

Twas my very first day at the poetry factory
A man took my name and wouldn't give it back to me

"You make a name for yourself by sweeping up letters
And gradually son, you get better and better"

So nameless and soulless I wandered unsure
Sweeping my words from the factory floor
I'll make one so big,  everyone knows
Apprentice to master of poems and prose

That fat cat spat fat on my mat hat, splat!

I was late for school but it was cool, my chauffeur took the wrap
I even blamed the butler for the absence of my cap
My cravat was always crease-less and my slacks were really snappy
My shoes were always shiny, which made my pappy happy

Lesson one was cookery, but not for me today
So I sent our chef, an hour ahead, to make a nice soufflé
He usually does a marvelous job or when his mood permits
For Daddy signed him on a whim, after dining at the Ritz

Lesson two was Polo or Gymkhana if you must
So I chose fresh clothes and donned my hose as Polo’s upper crust
Oh I wish I’d brought my pony for the school ones just won’t do
They are barely fit for peasants, they are barely fit for glue

Morning break was late to take and the Polo match was drawn
But if you pleased, they’d bring cream teas to be taken on the lawn
I really didn't fancy Maths, so I stayed and sipped my char
For who could bear, and hour with Blair and his dreadful algebra

Lesson four was falconry with Mr Preston Love
His birds were plump but deadly and so quick off the glove
I loved to watch them soar and dive, a spiffing show for all
Reminds me of my gap year, hunting foxes in Nepal  

Lesson five was cancelled as Mummsy wrote a letter
She felt that English won’t suffice and elocution’s better
So Wilson rolled up in the Rolls and whisked me off to class
I hope tomorrow’s much improved, for today was oh so crass

The problem with Orange
Is nothing will rhyme
So instead of an Orange
I'll write about Lime.

The wind doth blow
And chills my bones
How I miss you radiant sun
Like marionettes
The leaves pirouette
At least they're all having fun