A taloned limb of airbrushed grey,
Like a pike or spike from days gone by.
Rips the sky asunder, makes a beeline for its plunder.
This stripy little blighter has tarried far too long.
Dancing there above the reeds, hovering like a fuzzy zephyr.
Alas! A graceful swipe, but a miss nonetheless.
Clean and primp, smooth and brush. No one saw. Maintain aloofness.
Quelle vie! The gentleman soldier of the playing fields.
The swaggering, feasting, flirting philanderer of suburbia. Sphinx of the A33.
Take me with you, flying ace, let’s nap and pounce and shun embrace.
