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