Well, the poem I unleashed upon you last night received a few plaudits on Twitter. Well, two, to be precise. But that’s enough to persuade me to publish another of my linguistic efforts; so here goes.
Again, this was written back in 2004. And, before long, you’ll probably notice a pattern emerging in my work.
Bread and Butter
by Martin Grocock, 2004
Every morning, about half past ten,
I take a break from my work, for that is when
You arrive and start conversation
On how you’ve no larger denomination
Of coins for my change.‘Don’t worry,’ I quip, ‘It goes the same way,’
Secretly wishing I could stand there all day
Engrossed in small-talk, awkward, polite
Yet disarmingly friendly, I feel quite alight
But I have to leave the queue.I return to my desk, smiling inside,
Asking myself why I never have tried
To chat as I dig out my money
Or perhaps say something quite funny
And let everyone else wait.You are the girl who sells bread and butter,
I can’t explain why I’m in such a flutter
Maybe one day I’ll ask you your name
Or else I’ll just hear someone ask you the same
And once again I’ll miss out.
And now, a bonus poem. Well, not so much a poem, but a single stanza I wrote; it just didn’t really fit in anywhere else. I’m not sure when I wrote this, but I guess it was in 2008.
Indelible
by Martin Grocock, 2008ish
You’re right: I’ve no right to treasure you, but
You’re indelibly etched on my mind.
You’re my rock; and I’m just a stone, throw-away,
Arrived with the tide; left behind.