Just a sec, I know they're here somewhere,
if you'd stop rushing me I'd find them.
Perhaps I might have packed them in a case
or wrapped brown paper, tied with string.
They might be in the loft or shed, or, ah! Look now
my crumpled list of Great Good Things to spend
a life upon. And so they must be here.
Under the bed? Or slipped between the pages of a book,
the minutes of a day? Re-check the list. Oh dear.
No ticks. I lost the list and have been busy with
I don't know what. But there's still time. Give me
the list, I'll start today. What do you mean?
Right now? No time to get my coat?
you've any comments on this poem, Maggie
Butt would be pleased to hear from you.