The Posh - The Gram

Under the hot blue – sun,

Danced they,

During their heyday,

Serenity hayed.

The gram danced,

With all its panache,

Seemed to be the height of posh,

O' Serenity hayed.

The wind blew with its elegant rage,

The nippy chill flew in the spine,

While the sardines were enlivening the brine,

O' Serenity hayed.

The green gram was still raw,

But love, it would bestow,

Chortled nature, while –

O' the Serenity - it hayed!