New poem channelled from Ino

The sun charm from the year ‘decay’

Has lost its gold and turned to grey.

The wool still holds, where it was knitted,

Straps still keep it on, as fitted,

Like a breastplate. You, crusader,

In your wellington boots, you wader.

Do not dare to wear it here

Where fishing is banned, close to the weir.

Show yourself without your charm-

Expose yourself to fresh air, harm,

And all the ribald “in the stocks”

Sayings of the folk who mock.

Prepare yourself to face the world.

Your flag must fly, not be so curled

Like this charm, that’s been in a box,

While all your fervour starts and stops.

So rally now, come home, they say.

The sun you wear has turned to grey.