The moon is blue
Over solitude
Like God
Above me

I heard her calling out to me
tried to ignore her,
begged her to set me free
but her scent, her taste
kept calling to me
I ached so
for her to just let me be
but the lure, the pull
her enticing ways
kept gnawing and eating at me
for days
and finally I gave in to her call
and drank in her aroma, her scent
tasted the essence of her elixir from hell
and I sit here now
trying to tell
which way is up--
is the room spinning (or is it me?)
I should have insisted
she let me be,
but I'm weak and her taste and lure is strong--
I should have known better--
giving into brandy
has always been wrong...

Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
Tic....

I heard a man putting ladders up outside
Probably to clean the gutters
He suddenly appeared at my window
"Hello" he said
"I'm Father Christmas
I'm just practising"

I am an old kitchen timer
who lives in the bathroom
and I work once a day
for fifteen minutes, while
Anne showers.

I don't know what
she does in there -
maybe she sneaks
down the drain,
pops up into another
bathroom where  everything
so confusing here makes
absolute sense.

Or maybe she stays
and tries to scrub off
the night.

At the end of her time
I bring her back
loudly, insistently;
I hear her shiverswear
when she turns off
the water.

Why she climbs out
and into the day - every day -
I have no idea.
I am only a simple
timer with a dial
that turns and a silver bell
for my back.
I do not compute.