Reality, reality,
\nIs only as far as the farthest tree
\nOr, on a\u00a0 long and wearisome day
\nThe next expected cup of tea.
\nIt’s within the confines of how we play
\nAs children attached to our scattered toys,
\nAnd the section between the girls and boys
\nAs we grow up, and the World expands
\nTo a reality each only half understands.
\nIt’s when, as a lad, you played fast and free
\nWith your father’s neighbour’s privacy
\nAnd now you are grown, and the same as he,
\nYou rail at the lads who do this to thee.
\nIt’s when they say they’ll need a mock-up
\nOf the project they have in mind,
\nAnd the result is a complete cock-up,
\nA scapegoat they must quickly find.
\nIt’s having watched the World unfold
\nAnd cleaned your teeth as you were told
\nThen, having lerned so many tricks,
\nStart writing poetry at sixty six.<\/p>\n
Reality, reality,
\nYou have some of it so has she,
\nBut none of us own it exclusively.
\nAnd when you reach your home, it’s there
\nWhere you will hope to die one day.
\nShall I meet you, or you me, where
\nThe one has gone before to light the way.<\/p>\n
October 1996<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Reality, reality, Is only as far as the farthest tree Or, on a\u00a0 long and wearisome day The next expected cup of tea. It’s within the confines of how we play As children attached to our scattered toys, And the … Continue reading