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The School Run

Young mums of all shapes and sizes,

Stood outside the little school gates,

Superciliously smiling,

At other young mums, as they wait.

Some of them come on bicycles,

Others arriving in flash SUVs,

Walkers with prams or other tots,

There's even one with a taxi.

There are some Nannies, not Nannys,

Mind you, there could be one or two,

There are granddads and real dads,

But not that many, just a few.

They all meet on the lawn out front,

Falling into their cosy cliques,

Where they sneer at the other mums,

Sussing out the strong from the weak.

Some wearing designer clothing,

Others are dressed in ripped knee jeans,

A few in lycra skin-tight pants,

Two or three dressed up as drag queens.

You can watch them throw their heads back,

As they laugh at something quite crass,

These women look the stupidest,

With their high heels stuck in the grass.

The young horrors will be unleashed,

Together, at quarter past three,

Like Pandora's box miseries

The children are finally free.

Earlier today, the children,

firmly ensconced on wooden chairs,

Listening to the teachers teach,

Whilst working silently in pairs,

Last day before the end of term,

Children are not interested,

With what the teacher was saying,

Or in the time, she's invested.

The darlings are given prizes,

Certificates for everyone,

"Miss, holidays start tomorrow,"

"Could you hurry this bit along?"

Children are a double-edged sword,

They are your life, they're your jewels,

But the house is quieter when,

They have gone, all day, to their schools.

The kids watch their parents waiting,

The parents see their little tykes,

Finally when the bell rings out,

There's a scramble, scooters and bikes.

Bikes and parents are abandoned,

An Ice cream van at the front gate,

As a clan of hyenas, charging

Around the van, they congregate.

One parent feels responsible,

Scoots off the ice cream man with curt phrases,

Children are decidedly peeved,

They fire daggers with alarming gazes.

I didn't quite see what happened next,

I was collecting our precious cargo,

Jumping into the parked red car,

Home safe, as a parcel from Wells Fargo.

I had used my head earlier,

Getting in front of others, all alone,

Potential juvenile riot

I had purchased ice cream for going home.

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