It Brings You Together

 

It Brings You Together

 

There once was a donkey

who guarded a thistle – it’s true –

nurtured purple, bruised blue,

clopping daily from her barn

to the Sky Glass widescreen –

rating all crime dramas ever seen,

‘I feel depressed, distressed;

there ain’t one of these I’ve missed.’

He nods; clears away the mess.

 

In another place not far away

which abutted, they had a power-out.

Is that actually a thing? No doubt.

Anyway, they’re watching

when, suddenly - Pif, Paf, Poof –

the cathode ray tube pops;

fades to grey, hits black.

 

Huddled around a candle,

casting jittery shadows,

with a sweet smell of waxy wick

he’s hurdling steps, double quick,

finds a couple of torches, kept

for such occasions as this,

rare as they may be –

 

She considers, and declaims: ‘funny how

it always brings you all together.’

There’s a hole while

they consider empty spaces –

then the light comes back

and he’s off upstairs to pack.