Today, dear Lord, please may I star
as helpful, humble, etcetera
If thatís not possible, at least
donít let me stray too far off piste
Of course, your will be done, not mine
however hard to know be thine
but any wriggle roomís just fine . . .
Other people seem content
with their allotted slot Ė
what happened to the Quality
Control, in that Iím not?
But what if other people
arenít so otherly at all Ė
if inside they too fall apart . . .
Each time we hear it ringing
in a near or far-off room
you rush off from my side
and when itís once more safely
back in your hand, you shout
you can stop, Iíve found it now Ė
leaving me silently asking
why you fail to pick up how
I wish that youíd replied.
If you have any thoughts on these poems, Tom Vaughan would be pleased to hear them.