Sherlock's Day Out

Today I'll play Holmes,
And although there's been no crime,
I certainly have the solution.
You will be Watson, and so,
recipient of every,
condescending remark.
Yes my dear fellow we'll visit
the scenes of your finest narratives. 
The rhododendron dell;
the simulacrum oak; the
sylvan punch-bowl behind;
and that path above the rainbow
carpet, nurtured under glass. 
We're seeking solitude - space
between us and more sober minds.
Sherlock spies the signs of a struggle
in the sky.  He leaves, searching Time,
for its senseless attack on the day.
Retiring, we turn to,
Tubular Bells, not once,
But, three times at least.

Graeme Bes-Green

If you've any comments on this poem, Graeme Bes-Green would be pleased to hear from you.

{short description of image}