Horse-Face Shrike In Lonely Dialogue
By leaving no margin for error
No risk was taken at all
So what could account for her terror
Perhaps it's the bricks in the fall
By making no plans for the future,
Nor peeping into the dark
She quickly lost all of her money,
Perhaps she should stop in the park
But to stop in a park with no prospects
And rummage for gold in the bins
Sinking one's hopes in a liner
No iceberg can freeze out her sins!
The park is entirely too dreary,
The band-stand's silent and bare
She'd run, but her eyes are too bleary
She'd weep. but she's sick of despair.
The error was leaving no margin
The error was simply a ruse
Permitting each client to barge in
Disrupting the orderly queues
No more than the width of two kippers
All mildewed and moist on the stairs
Within sight of the largest big dippers
Our fungi is sorted by pairs.
So let's not make light of our worries
Let's not pretend to be glad
The dormouse of destiny scurries
From the slightly unhinged to the mad
| Contributors: | Roland, KD, Stacy, TG, Bop, P, Kevin. |
| Poem finished: | 15th April 1997. |