The Writers' Group went to Helen's in Hook
And each of them took a good book
The road there was shut
And covered in soot
So they travelled back home in a truck

At Irene's the following June
They met by the light of the moon
Dinah's short story
Was scary and gory
And they promised to meet again soon

The group they next gathered at Ellie's
It was wet so they all wore their wellies
Our Clive he wrote tales
Of man eating snails
That left them all shivering like jellies

At Tony's the brave band did meet
But found he'd gone shopping in Fleet
They sat on the drive
Till gone half past five
When he came home with suffering feet

It was at Martin's they all next met
A conundrum for them he had set
A strain on grey matter
And then a good natter
Followed by all the cream cakes they could get

At Sarah's they met in due course
Who was last seen out riding a horse
She rushed back to the stable
Then returned to the table
And served them roast lamb with mint sauce

Dear Reader, then there is me
Not a poet l'm sure you'll agree
But all said and done
The group is good fun
And I can make a good cup of tea!

---

Liz Gynn