Easter Sunday

Today was our family Easter Sunday lunch. We couldn't all get together last week so we celebrated today instead. It used to be a tradition, when the children were small, to make these nests with eggs, decorated by fluffy chicks. They were thrilled to be having them again today.

Here's my poem:

Chicken or egg
Which came first?
Does it really matter?
Is either one worse?


Why did the chicken
Cross the road?
What does it matter
If only he knows?


Too many questions
Let's give it a rest
Chill out with loved ones
And eat chicky nests.


I got the first two verses easily and I was trying to think of something profound for the last verse. Something about people asking the wrong questions. Trivial ones instead of the ones that really matter. I couldn't get it right. It turns out I'm more Spike Milligan than W.B. Yeats. Maybe I'll get better as the month wears on. Only time will tell if I'm going to be the next Seamus Heaney or the new Pam Ayres :-)))))