How Did That Get There? Poem by Ray Feasey

The old discarded chair upon its side no place to hide
Afar from town or building on roadside verge it has no pride

The roadside cone all red and white on top of roof so high
No ladders scaffold or obvious route it stays aloft buy why?

A single shoe that floats on by on long canal it slips away
No boats or people anywhere near who’s limping home today

Then late at night while seeking car for journey home alone
A skywards glance and then by chance a bright star sky is shown

So how did that get there?


Copyright © 2009 Ray Feasey