When the Room's Full of Zebras

Sometimes I poke the stars
When the room's full of zebras I kneel
When the room's full of cushions I stand
There's much to be said for admiring titles
So when you come I shall call you Your Honour
Or joke about partridges, [the morning shoot]
How the weeds are taking over the conservatory
It would be so nice if a few special words
were to fall from the sky, in a dome, a plume
Rubbling the path to delight the hikers
Markers on the way to nowhere
Because everywhere is somewhere
And only a few ever see
A room full of zebras.

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