Two of a kind, we have so much in common
I thought, as I cycled past her on the Common
Our bags were stuffed with soiled belongings.
Was she lonely too? Filled with untold longings?
I could write a tune, a poem or a play for her
Knowing that soon I would make a play for her
Although we had met only moments ago
Once inside, I decided to give it a go
Cried: ‘Let’s put our clothes into the same wash!’
The look of horror told me that it wouldn’t wash
‘Let’s save time and money. Share our washing powder.’
But she turned her back and snapped, ‘Take a powder.’
She needed her own machine. To run her own cycle.
So I unloaded, and lonely, rode home on my cycle.