The h2g2 Poem
Created | Updated Dec 10, 2003
Alone
She sits alone in her room
Looking out across the storms
That rage onto the shore
The bone china cup
Soft rich tea
Lay long undisturbed by her side
Breakfast TV blasts out
'Win a holiday to the Algarve'
Only one phone call
Minimum cost 50p
The invitation goes unheeded
As does the knock at the door
The caller is persistent
Calling through the letterbox
Don't they ever stop?
Always a salesman
Or religious evangelist
To convert to the latest fad
A crack as the frame gives way
Followed by the lock in the door
The raging sea calms for a second
Sun rays burst through the nets
We should have come more often
There was so much unsaid
It's all over
Wealth could not protect her
Nor her lofty heights
Shell never know who won the holiday
As the announcer is turned off
And her eyes are drawn down, for the very last time
