THE PLAY... GROUND...

Ten years old
Already queen
By virtue of thick golden hair
Already tossed and primped and
preened
With haughty hostile stare

Already looking down to down
A giggling gaggle crowded round
Sniffing out lone mousy mouse
As fine fair good game there

And so it starts 
All queen no heart with mouse
destined to run
The players act again again
All well versed in the part

But who designed the queen, the
mouse
Who wrote this dreaded play
Who sits, observes, is
entertained
By timeless world wide ways

And they shall grow
Their parts to play
By luck or by design
The battle on, the struggle set
Untill the end of time

And what's the point...we know
the end
The lessons nil
Let's not pretend
That any point exists at all
The winners win
The loners fall and...
That's it

M P 25/10/21