Until

Until the stars can answer why
until cars run on apple pie
until the sea groans like the land
until the land sighs like the sea
until the dead can understand
what they should wear when asked to tea –

until the weekend is mid-week
until the trees play hide-and-seek
until two tigers hand-in-hand
read Shakespeare to the poor, for free
until the dead shall understand
the posh way one should stir one’s tea –

until mock turtles sing like birds
until the world turns into words
until despair and loss are banned
until wars have a referee   
until the dead all understand
that tea is served at four, NOT three . . .

Tom Vaughan

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Tom Vaughan would like to hear them.