I cannot offer closure to
those who lose their loved ones
or whose children die
or parents die
or whose companies fail
or banks empty
or women run out
or bottles empty
or whose demons eat at them
or doubts destroy them
or whose lives are as hallow
as a Carron beetle cooked for
centuries under an unforgiving
sun

I can only offer a chance
to those who thought there
was none
to those who didn’t realize
there was a way out
or that they weren’t done for,
just yet

I give them a minute,
two perhaps,
where they can choose
to do
or
not

and this alone is all
the universe allows

She was only 15, no boyfriends yet
At a family gathering their eyes first met
Now Rob's not shy, with plenty of chat
So he gave her a call and they never looked back.

She went to Cambridge to get her degree
So every weekend, so did he.

When that was all done, what's next to do?
No more travelling, just me and you
In a cottage in Framsden made for two

With ferrets and fish and a couple of dogs
Oka cooks happy meat while Rob chops logs
A veggie garden appeared for a spell
A few came up, but the weeds did well.
Some chickens arrived and did their thing
Then so did the fox to commit his sin.

Now Rob loves his hobbies, it gets on her wick
When he's in his shed fiddling with his welding stick.
But life is quite settled, time passes like this
Living their version of unmarried bliss.

But something is missing, the feeling grows
She thinks to herself, will he ever propose?
Then leap year comes round, with it's extra day
That was her chance to have her say

Rob knew it was coming, he took the day off.
She said I want to be married, now don't you scoff!
But Rob wasn't scoffing, he said now I'm sure
I do love my Landie, but I love you more.

That brings us right up to this special day
We all wish you well, we all want to say
May your lives together be happy, healthy and long
May your love for each other keep growing strong.

Life's the longest distance between two points:
Doggy-paddling through the present backwards
Understanding words already spoken
Right hand on the wheel, torso twisted
(As in standard reversal procedure),
Looking out the back, advancing slowly,
Careering backwards down the motorway:
We see ourselves in car windscreens becoming
Reflections of ourselves in passers-by.
Decode the numberplates, look out the sides
For chaos, chance and consciousness to coincide
And tell us that we haven't missed our turn,
Forever facing where we can't return.