Somewhere at some time <br />They committed themselves to me <br />And so, I was! <br />Small, but I WAS! <br />Tiny, in shape <br />Lusting to live <br />I hung in my pulsing cave. <br />Soon they knew of me <br />My mother --my father. <br />I had no say in my being <br />I lived on trust <br />And love <br />Tho' I couldn't think <br />Each part of me was saying <br />A silent 'Wait for me <br />I will bring you love!' <br />I was taken <br />Blind, naked, defenseless <br />By the hand of one <br />Whose good name <br />Was graven on a brass plate <br />in Wimpole Street, <br />and dropped on the sterile floor <br />of a foot operated plastic waste <br />bucket. <br />There was no Queens Counsel <br />To take my brief. <br />The cot I might have warmed <br />Stood in Harrod's shop window. <br />When my passing was told <br />My father smiled. <br />No grief filled my empty space. <br />My death was celebrated <br />With tickets to see Danny la Rue <br />Who was pretending to be a woman <br />Like my mother was.<br /><br />Spike Milligan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unto-us/
