Ode to Lyn's Nursery

Written after a ride to Criccieth. On the return journey, it began to rain very very heavily, so everyone headed straight to the tea stop, the wonderful Lyn who had greeted cyclists for many years. Once there, we all huddled insides, making small puddles whilst Lyn offered towel after towel in addition to the usual tea and cakes.

The three ride helpers were last to leave and we had a whale of a time. The cycle path had turned into a stream and we had reached the point where you’re so wet you can't get any wetter and you no longer care.

The poem was triggered by the phrase "wondering whether wild weather would wane" that had somehow arrived in my head. But soon it turned into a freak monster challenge where it was less about the poem and more about 140 words, none repeated, all beginning with W given the theme was Wales and wet and all sentences starting 'Wh'.

Why Wales with wild weird western Wolds.

What wonderful wacky winding ways.

Where whirling whirring wheelers whisk whiz waltz wee.

Wheresoever waking wanderlust.

Whither wafted well, wittering warbling whooping waffle words, wending wayward widdershins.

Whence without wanted warranted warning

Wham! Whap! Wallop! whop whack - warring winds wrangle

Whoosh wielding weeping wicked waste waters willynilly wide.

Whelmed wheels wield wake waves.

Whoa, weakened wobbled, weltered.

Whaled walkers wade waddle.

Wholehearted warmth welcomes wrested wretched wan wanderers, weary waifs

Who, washed water worn weary, wait wee while whilst within, wringing wiping wriggling writhing

When whistle whetted, wheaten wholefood wedges wolfed, wary worried wayfarers watch windows world ward

Whither wishing wisdom, weighing whether weather's wet wrath will wane.

Whispered wondering, would waterproof webbed welded wares withhold, warding waters wicked wick wheedle wangle wilting wrack within,

Which worn wooly warp woven weft wears warmest.