Send in the Clouds, that will never lift,
save the brain forest, grey matters and drift.
Islands of dusk, duffel coated with pride,
muffle the light, cloud cuckoo landslide.
No gloom at the Inn, when dimmer switched
tucked into horizon, and blanket-stitched.
As wrapped in cotton, wolves losing sleep,
snug, restless days, when counting the sheep.
True muted colours, relaxing the eye,
grease proof positive, Tupperware sky.
Our tones humbled, Bubble and squeak,
from cushions deep-fried, at solstice peak.
The jungle cook grills, to desert sand,
so eat your greens and pleasant land.
Our shifty shield, will save the day,
Sunstroke beaten, by battleship grey.