The Spoonbill Generator

The Great White Blancmange Of God

Clutched against her breast [N]

Two maps of Bucharest [loaf]

She hurries for the gate [N]

Fearing she'll be late [F]

Final boarding call [N]

Murmuring an Ave--softly, half in jest-- [F]

Gazing at the statue on the wall [N]

She wonders if she's doing what is best [F]

Clutching to her seat [N]

She feels the rhythmic beat [F]

Of wheels along the track [N]

No chance of going back [Big Andy]

Whistle blows ahead [Beefy ]

She wonders - "Have I made the right decision?" [Karin]

The hasty dash - no time to make provision [Beefy ]

What fate awaits? Where is she being led? [F]

Clutch of eggs all safe [Apsley]

(Stolen from a homeless waif.) [Herb]

She settles down to sleep [Beefy ]

Trying to count sheep-- [Herb]

"Bucharest Next Stop!" [N]

She wakens with a start--beholding a face [F]

She once adored. "The other shoe must drop," [willh]

He silkily suggests. She knows her love is base. [F]

Clutching at his sleeve, [willlh]

She knows she soon will grieve [F]

He seems to know her mission-- [willh]

To seek his apparition [F]

He leads her to the street [N]

She wonders--can she ever bring herself to leave? [F]

(Old habits are the hardest ones to beat.) [willh]

The past and present start to interweave [F]

Contributors: N, loaf, F, Big Andy, Beefy, Karin, Apsley, Herb, willh, willlh.
Poem finished: 7th December 2003 by Anon..