Sod’s Law

Furious Fawlty gives his car a bollocking,Then he scourges the unresponsive thing.We laugh because we cannot weep when weMoan about the world with all its weather,Scream at kids who are only kids,Dream of finding buried, long-lost treasure.

The world is never quite what we desire –And wishes, longing, prayers and our what ifs,Even for the smoothest, grease the wheelsOf the trundling trucks we travel on.But there is always the serpent lurking,Or the faulty gene of disease and bad luck –And the slow drag of unresponsive ageWhich we cannot beat into submission.