Wee Scoops

Measure for Measure

The Desk, a poem

The Desk

The bridge of my starship,
My starship of enterprises.
I enter: prizes.

My name on a toblerone prism,
Gouged in gold.

You can’t see my feet,
Just my mug shot
Above the mahogany,
My coiffured self
My manicured shiny shiny me.

Polished and buffed,
My desk is tidy
Miscellaneous pens in a desk tidy.
Tidy, tidy.

My in tray is empty;
My out tray is full
Of neat fat envelopes with stamps on,
Ready to be posted,
Out of my hands.

Wood and baize,
And ink and paper
A stationary stationery helm:
My mission control.

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One thought on “The Desk, a poem

  1. I sense school and the excitement of new school supplies, first days of school and finding old friends once again. šŸ˜€

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