Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Walled Pretty

A man once lived in a box of wood
Four by four by four
It had clear plastic for its hood
And nothing as its floor

It has slits for windows
And flaps for doors
The upkeep cost is pretty low
So very easy to keep the score

Now, he leads an easy life,
No worries no stress nor strife
Lives on eggs and rice daily
Finds the humdrum plain lively

Money in his life, you can’t say plenty
Just enough to get him by
Prides himself of being un-bitchy
Content to let and watch time fly

Elsewhere the world was in a rush
A blurry of things, a torrent, a gush
Leaving slowpokes in a hush
Had all and sundry in its crush

Outside his box, the walls grows
Towering, dwarfing, casting shadows
The man became weary, scared and in throes
Thinking about the strange, strange bedfellows

Is it too late for me to change, he thinks
To opt for concrete, glass and steel
Cooped up like so would surely stink
Though his life, he sees an even keel

But what of his box of wood
Could he leave it behind well and good?

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