My love, while we talked <br />They removed the roof. Then <br />They started on the walls, <br />Panes of glass uprooting <br />From timber, like teeth. <br />But you spoke calmly on, <br />Your example of courtesy <br />Compelling me to reply. <br />When we reached the last <br />Syllable, nearly accepting <br />Our positions, I saw that <br />The floorboards were gone: <br />It was clay we stood upon. <br /> <br /> <br />Anonymous submission.<br /><br />John Montague<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/uprooting/
