A HARD DAY
by Chris Wallace-Crabbe
Regretfully lacking a god
and his much pored-over
thick volumes of moral guidance
I have to fly along
by the seat of my pants
which cannot involve any
sitting on the metaphorical fence.
In the circs I would seem
to have adjusted my soul:
a severe hedonist, then,
is the hard brand I wear
on the moral T shirt:
smiling like any gentleman
but under a lambswool sweater
forgiving no-one at all.
Copyright © 2007 by Chris Wallace-Crabbe