More horse face,
Than the visage of Helen of Troy.
More carrot on a stick,
Than a teaspoon of sugar.
More a race against time,
Than a biological clock.
More fool’s gold AKA iron pyrite,
Than precious 24 carat gold.
More impromptu than planned.
More warring than peace.
More saccharine than
Stevia or brown sugar.
More a last leg,
Than a first deep end.
Still you would not like it to be a green mile,
Only blades of tall green grass.
Still it is more a conformity that sees
Rug rats inside her reflective iris moons.
And duped by time, you steady
Your vessel and light up St Elmo.
Still this custom of passing on
One night-stands in cheap motel rooms,
Doesn’t come easy for most.
Eternity even on its best of days,
Is not composed of stainless steel,
Only wrought iron.
Still the show must go on – and on –
This choreographed ballet,
Of paired dancing,
On varnished ice.
