When life gets you down,
Ceilings are fascinating things.
Some are patterned. Some have mould.
Or fans like battered butterfly wings.
If you’re lucky you may spy,
Some chewing gum
(In your mind’s eye
That could be a trapdoor to a floor
Where pigs wear heels.
And bumblebees do dodgy deals.)
Some ceilings have a line
From side to side.
The wrinkle of time.
Spare your blushes ceiling mine!
Bring plaster – faster,
I’ll Paint you lime.
I’ll fix your cracks with sacks
Of Paint. St. Matthew,
Mark, Luke and John.
Bless the bed that I lie on.
And let the ceiling smile again.
I’ll draw it on with my ballpoint pen.
With time it learned to love once more.
And chuckled flakes onto the kitchen floor.
If ceilings can withstand,
Sand. Paper. Twisted fans.
(were these tattoos ever in their plans?)
So can we pull up our socks.
Pluck our nose hair. Dust off our frocks.
Say: Today I shall not cry!
Sigh. We will die – why,
And when we can only try
To answer. First.
Time to look up and ask the ceiling:
Hey there. How are you feeling?