Getting Away From It All (Poetry)

I’ve not been feeling right for a few years now
I’ve hung around the ante room of death
waiting for a voice to say “Come through, dear
and take the weight off — time to have a rest!”

I so need a holiday from endless worry —
perpetual stress, depression, pain and strife
and whilst I’m not exactly in a hurry
I’d sooner have a break from this grim life.

I’ve heard the offer of reincarnation
is pretty good as far as these things go —
more lucky dip than chosen destination
but a change is good as anything. And so

I’m quite prepared to have a shot — it’s better
than lingering as miserable as sin
for no wet week could possibly be wetter
or drearier — it’s past imagining...

So, off to sunny climes and pastures greener
jam-packed with hope the trip will turn out well
dead keen to fill the shoes of some deep dreamer
who’s glimpsed that bliss the other side of Hell.

Those travel agents really are the Devil —
and I kind of know there’s got to be a catch —
the advert not entirely on the level
and “paradise” a rather dreary patch

of wasteland in the wilder part of Devon —
a wet ‘n’ windy corner quite bereft
of all the things one pictures as pure Heaven
where visitors are bound to catch their death!