Friday, February 24, 2012




Joy portrays an elegant pose,
Paying homage to 'the hat',
Gazing into the distance;
What is she looking at?
Surely she's at the races,
Watching the speeding steeds.
And an equally elegant shadow
Is what every lady needs.


Surely you can hear them,
The footsteps on the stair!
The clattering, terrified footsteps,
The danger lurking there.
The looming figure behind him,
The endless flights below,
The breathing, sharp and rasping,
The speed that is oh so slow.
The eyes fixed on the glimmer,
The little spot of light.
The clattering of footsteps;
The eternity of flight.
The round and round of descending,
The feet that slip and slide.
The nakedness of discovery,
With nowhere left to hide.
Round again and round and round,
And yet again round and round,
And, echoing through the building,
That dreadful clattering sound.

1 comment:

Margaret Gosden said...

Hey! Joyce Grenfell couldn't do better than that!
I love it!