The Best Guests
With operatic splendour did the door-bell sweetly chime
Foretelling unknown callers in the middle of the night
So wearily I rose, from my sumptuous satin sheets
"Wait there, Susan dear" - pistol loaded, head clear, don a smile
And improvise. Perhaps a quip, a mirthless laugh or offer her a lime?
I must attend our patient guests; they're standing in the snow
So wearily I rose, from my oatmeal laden dreams
And tip-toed down the hallway, 'cross an antique Turkish rug
But overcome by a caprice, I thought, "Ah, screw it, heck"
And from the casement window threw the contents of the pot
On my patiently waiting guests, little knowing they were my long lost family.
Contributors: | N, anon, F, Beefy, Karin. |
Poem finished: | 5th August 2003. |