The other day in quiet mood,

I sank into a reverie,

contemplating timeless truths,

ships of state, a navel gaze.

And focusing upon my lap,

which lay revealed to meet my needs;

my thoughts in thanks dwelt upon

the uses of my folded self.

 

Anatomically a useful shelf,

for all those things we do whilst sat;

but magically it disappears

once to our feet we rise to stand.

Where does it go, the wondrous tool?

The lap we see has gone perhaps,

to somewhere, where it slips away

and thus a lap is said to lapse.

 
 

David Garlick, Victoria, January, 1996