It was nice and sunny when I pitched my tent
But I knew that it wouldn't last
For the forecast said that wind and rain
Was heading my way fast.
And sure enough now three hours later
I'm zipped in good and tight,
While the storm outside rages loud and strong
Into the winter night.
I lie here listening to movements outside,
And sounds I can't explain.
I turn on my torch to show I'm awake
Then turn it off again
'Cos I don't want to attract the attention of
Something that might smell fear,
As I hide in my sleeping bag, asking myself:
What am I doing here?
Next time I'm definitely going elsewhere
Like a Yorkshire Moor or Dale
But, for now, it's Oxford Street
And the queue for the winter sale.
the above work is copyright David Axton © All Rights Reserved