light flute, slow.
Bass between the beat,
counterpoint to lead, repeat.
Fade flute for bass to counterpoint
and softly run, realigned flute and bass.
Soft key piano, counterpoint chords that chase
each other gently, now piano high with beating
fine-fingered bass and rested flute. Run piano,
gently through the keys to allow the space
between to be filled with fluted air again.
Fade piano, rest bass,
last hanging note.
Have you ever thought
About the world in terms of
Certainly the best and worst verse
have stuck since rhyme began, and always will
remain in the mind of the beholder,
insisting that their niggling lines,
surreptitiously laying down a course
to run with or from,
amass a certain
Carol ran out across the square,
her heels tapping tunefully on the echo-frozen slabs.
She left the sparkling holly-wreathed door
and the mellow sounds within while
PC Rapper and his melting crew stood by the step
their noses dripping and white suits shiny wet.
Across the way, across the square, by the door, the alcove niche,
sat a shadow, dour, poor, ignored by the nouveau-riche
but Carol in her Christmas guise ran out in dress of scarlet cotton
thrust into his hand a glass of wine, turned, skidded, slipped.
Glass forgotten, the man jumped up and saved that Carol,
helped her, broken-heeled, across square of squares,
passed the crying, melting crew and through the sparkling holly-door.
Inside, greeted with a raucous cheer, Carol with fixed smile and reddened face
bent and straightened her strap and lace.
Looked up and round at the laughing crowd, suddenly ashamed of them,
while at the door the unkempt waited, gently bowed as she wavered thanks
and turned and left and walked away, across the square, towards his niche.
And now she tells this story every year as bells ring out on Christmas Day.
Apologies if there really is a PC Rapper!
pc = politically correct
J Johnson Smith