To have a new beginning,
it goes without saying,
that there must have been an old ending;
or, depending on how you look at things:
when one door closes,
Moses supposes his toeses are roses;
then, another door opens,
and Moses supposes
nothing of the sort.
.
And, if you thought
that ‘that’ was the end
of the poem, my friend,
you’d be wrong;
it goes on and on,
going along
at a rate of knots –
not that the cat that sat upon the mat
would agree with it doing that.
.
Anyway, a new stanza, or verse,
only goes to prove
that worse
is yet to come –
as all of these random thoughts and words
will leave you uncomfortably numb;
as numb as a dumb waiter
seeking ‘some’ meaning to its life.
Think on this:
Strife, is no stranger
to a danger arranger –
or a light-bulb changer –
and, how many light-bulb moments does it take
to change a poet?
A question that really must have an answer,
and yet, no-one, will know it.
Graeme Sandford 