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Title: For C.
Author: C T L Smith
So I woke up this morning convinced
I had left my umbrella at Browns,
And had spent almost sixty-five quid
On our wine, and that twenty more pounds
Had managed to slip from my wallet
Between last bloody orders and home,
And that it was raining again today
When I had no small distance to go…
(Please don't worry and don't misconstrue me:
I was still more than glad that I'd come
To console when you needed consoling,
And to swill enough red to feel numb.)
Well -
      …Imagine my pleasure on finding
(When I finally opened the blinds)
That the sun showed no shyness in shining
And that, rather than cash, I was losing my mind.
For my wallet was still full of bread,
And my brolly was under the bed.

I reflect as I sit on the train:
Although I was sour when I woke,
To make you feel normal again,
I'd give cash away till I was broke;
And I'd jump up and down on my brolly
In the hope it might make you feel jolly;
And swap sunnier weather for wetter,
If I thought it would make you feel better.

[alternative ending:]
(As it is, since we're long turned eighteen,
Let's just drink till we both go bright green)
 
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