posted 16th October 2024
Shall I tell you about Ely,
The day a young man learned to fly,
Like a sweet looking butterfly.
Ely was only twelve,
Finding his way with some revolve,
Seeking for truth, finding only a life dissolved.
Ely turned thirteen,
His parents had never had a teen,
Many a time he nearly broke their spleen.
Ely ran under the baking sun,
Worshipping God like a good old Nun,
Finding that the Bible had already been done.
Ely turned fourteen,
His body wasn’t half keen,
Bits and bobs that he hadn’t before seen.
Ely spotted her as the rain fell down,
His heart was beating like a busy clown,
Those hazelnut eyes could never make him frown.
Ely turned sweet sixteen,
A few years away from adulthoods gaze,
The last throws of childhood were his to amaze.
