Untitled

Possibly a bit of a cheat as it isn’t entirely new. It is however the first time it’s been written down. Let me explain. I “write” a lot of new poetry in my head on the way home from the pub. The difficulty of course is that while such poetry may well be the most sublimely wonderful work I’ve ever done, by the time I wake up next morning, I’ve forgotten it completely. All that’s left is a vague feeling that something important has slipped away from me.
This isn’t sublimely wonderful. It’s a piece of doggerel that somehow stuck in my head well enough to survive sobriety. It doesn’t have a title, but it probably doesn’t deserve one.

As for keeping me out of the pub now, well I finished it off and wrote it down at about two o'clock in the afternoon, so no, it didn't work today either.

I don’t need a window.
I don’t need a door.
I don’t need a ceiling.
I don’t need a floor.
I don’t need rooms
And I don’t need walls
In fact I don’t need
A house at all.

Just give me the road.
Just give me the sky.
Just give me the trees
That I’m passing by.
Just give me the rainbow.
Just give me the rain.
And you’ll never give me
Any cause to complain.