Party

At the garden gate the bunting flutters,
Colours bright as summer tea,
Friends gather round with laughter’s chatter,
Glasses clink in mellow glee.

The DJ spins a vinyl groove,
Feet tap on the patio stone,
While crisps and sandwiches disappear,
And jokes fly like confetti blown.

Night deepens, lanterns sway and glow,
Stars peek through the fragrant air,
We toast the moments, slow and slow,
A party’s heart beyond compare.

When the last note fades and lights grow low,
We linger, weary, warm, and content—
In Britain’s gentle after‑glow,
The joy of simply being spent.