Contrasong

Gazing quite vacantly into space one day

Sitting up in my bed surrounded by

A few Sunday papers and their colour supplements

All of them superficially interesting

Happily unaware that somewhere somebody was aware

That somewhere somebody was awake and well

Undisturbed

Living on

Glancing quite speedily through assortments

Of horrible illustrations of atrocities

And apologies of editors but they felt

It was necessary for people to see the pictures

On no account were they attempting

To boost their paper's circulations

I felt a wave

Closed my eyes

Which was worse

Nevertheless I was I suppose

Quite at ease at home with my food

Brought up at intervals to my bed

With all the sympathy I could want

And with all the time in the world

To write thank-you letters to all the people

Kind enough to send Christmas presents

When they knew I was

Really very

Insignificant