Party animals

I’ve watched the ceiling cracks grow ever wider.

Perhaps the whole thing will come crashing down;

Bring with it every cobweb, every spider,

And Great Aunt Catherine’s books and ballroom gown.

These new tectonics are a bit concerning

Since something odd which happened Tuesday night.

Might just have been the wind I was discerning

(Admittedly, the storm was at its height).

I’d just got into bed and had my Horlicks,

Then settled down, turned off the lamp and coughed,

When suddenly some little creaks – then more cricks

Began to come from somewhere in the loft.

Would you believe – I swear I heard some laughter,

Like tiny, high-pitched squeals and ecstasies.

And pitter-patter footsteps on a rafter,

And wine and song – and maybe even cheese!

What tiny folk can dance and be ecstatic

In such a dingy place so dark and dank?

I wondered, having crawled around the attic

And checked the roof and every board and plank.

But partying like this creates great dangers.

These immigrants are causing untold harm.

I need to find a way to stop these strangers –

Restore domestic peace and bring some calm.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for fellow feeling.

No prejudice in me, you can be sure!

But growing cracks across my textured ceiling –

Well, it’s not right, I need to find a cure.

– – – – –

In other news, my uncle’s on vacation.

Afghanistan, a city called Herat.

He’s left his pet with me for the duration –

A young and rather feisty tabby cat …

 

 

Talking to the wind

These paid-for therms want out
Up against the glass.
I feel their pane
And wipe their tears.

The free air touches cold
All along the frame,
Looks in again
And sees the smears.

Now browning leaves stick tight
Down across the sill.
I can explain,
Just calm your fears!

I pay to keep them in,
D’you realise?
It starts to rain
And no-one hears.

 

 

 

Dec. 2019