Pastiche of Billy Collin’s Poetry Litany

Meepoo, G11

You are the bread and the knife, the crystal goblet and the wine. You are the wooly clouds against bright blue and the sunbeams dancing on water. You are the ribbon on top of the gift and the fish swimming in a clear pond.

However, you are not the wind whistling between the trees. You are neither the taste of sour cherry sorbet, nor the seashells in the sand. And you certainly are not the flickering street light. There is just no way you are the street light.

It is possible that you are the birds pecking on breadcrumbs, maybe even the cat curled up in the painter’s lap, but you are not even close to being the bouquet of sunflowers at sunrise.

And a glance at your reflection will show that you are neither the blue blanket draped over the armchair nor the band playing at a festive fair.

Speaking of the abundance of imagery in the world, it might pique your interest that I am puddles after summer showers.

I also happen to be a field of lavender at dusk, the dusty dollhouse in the corner, and the city lights at night.

I am the moon’s reflection on still water, and the pile of plush pillows to clean up later. But don’t worry, I am not the bread and the knife. You can be the bread and the knife, as well as the crystal goblet, and surprisingly - the wine.