Conversation With the Flying Plates

I'll tell you what you want to hear

Tell me where I'd like to go

Ask me where the Summer went

That way maybe I don't know

And while my life's not in a rut

Every weekend I take flight

Given that today's the day

Presumably tonight's must be the night

Accustomed though I am

To crying in the rain

What's the point of counting sheep

When by the time you get

To ten or twelve you're asleep

You are my love you are my life

It's emblazoned on my chest

Every time we have a row

I just keep it covered with a vest

You ask if I am anxious

How this will pan out

Let's just say until it's foiled

Answer does I fear

Lie nowhere near the soil

And so the conversation

With the flying plates begin

You see a pattern now emerging

On a plate shell fling

It doesn't matter where it goes

As long as it goes fast

You recognize your favourite

China cup as it goes past

And was the Meissen so enticingly

That I had to leave

Surely the fact it was a wedding present

Would ensure

It would remain secure

Like to think within a year

We'll look back on this and laugh

Only problem is it's year

One year on's already what we've had

Accustomed though I am

To diamond-studded ears

Which by the way on men

As it's just in one

Look when hung

Bent

And so the conversation

With the flying plates continues

In the yellow corner

Flexing all her muscular vim

Throwing overhand or underhand

It makes no odds

Lovely bit of Royal Doulton

Heading for ye Gods

And in the midst of all this carnage

Comes a sobering thought

Most of what has been destroyed

Can never be re-bought

Such a shame now in the morning

As the maid comes in

On her morning stint

Looking on in shock

After taking stock

Of what's around her feet