I bathe in raindrops.
Dry in sunlight.
Freeze in frost on mornings bright.
Moonlight plays upon the clouds, as morning chorus  plays out loud.
Rats and mice do cross my path, as morning comes around.
The fast train flies at rapid speed, flinging sparks as it precedes.
Silently I sit at dawn upon the station so forlorn.
The light of dawn climbs to the sky.

Slow train creeps and here it stops.
Sparking as it slowly stops.
Next stop up the line is mine.
Always  busy.
Business men and dolly birds.
Female creature without a tongue.
As if I robot moves, a trophy upon a podgy business arm.
He slyly glances at all the females on the station.
London bound.
Waterloo.

Ascent into the land of work.
By now the sun has reached the sky.
I wonder why, when I get into the land of work it's really nearly dark.
And when the evening comes around the light has faded into night.
But night's not gone.
It's not right.
No proper daylight do I see.
Until the spring has sprung for real.
(c)LIVVI

"Phew,
it's ******* hot under this grill."

"You're not wrong, Cecil.
I just hope after we've been burnt alive,
we get to cool down with some
ketchup or brown sauce."

"Tarquin, we're ******.
The fat ***** cooking us will
just wolf us down."

"Well, I, for one,
aim to give her the worst
upset stomach she's ever had."

"Oh God,
here comes her podgy fingers!
Its been nice knowing you, Tarquin."

"Bon voyage, my friend!"