Thought you might all enjoy another poem this evening. This one's called "My Tablecloth".
My Tablecloth
The pattern of my tablecloth reminds me of Scarborough,
East coastal graveyard.
The colour of my tablecloth reminds me of Skegness,
Dark dank hole.
The corners of my tablecloth remind me of Rhyll,
Lost land of the lonely.
The creases in my tablecloth remind me of Bournemouth,
Where the pain never ends.
The edge of my tablecloth reminds me of Blackpool,
Everyone playing dead.
The smell of my tablecloth reminds me of Yarmouth,
Catastrophe in waiting.
The size of my tablecoth reminds me of Weston-Super-Mare,
No one has a future.
The price tag hanging off the tablecloth reminds me I'm still in Asda,
and probably should stop reminiscing and get to the counter to pay.
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