This is a poem salvaged from an email to a friend many years ago; I hope you like it.
Have you heard the story
Of the man who wished to be left alone?
In not then listen, for I shall tell;
But I warn you now,
It does not end well.
The man he found a lamp,
In the lamp he found a note;
On the note he read
“Out for tea - make one wish
and make it well!”
"Well indeed!" the man he thought,
And closed his eyes and wished.
He wished to be alone, to need nothing else
And no one else
"That’s a foolish wish!"
He thought but then
He vanished, no chance to wish again.
The genie - for it was his lamp
And his note that the man had read
And said - took the man’s little house
From his little town, with its nosy neighbours,
And placed it in a magic circle only yards away.
It was so dark in that circle
One could not see light of day.
The man was happy with his lot - he pottered,
Prattled, practiced and pensified
Till his eyes were red and his fingers shaking...
His best friend was the cuckoo clock,
He daren’t trust the kettle, and
The toaster and the teapot
Were definitely plotting something.
The townsfolk didn’t wonder where he went -
They didn’t need to.
Someone spied the sphere
And from that day forth the town had a new attraction:
The Loneliest Man In the World.
One day the spell broke, but
No one knew why.
Only a bunch of the boldest and bravest
Dared to venture into the invisible, amazing,
Magical, mysterious circle.
They found him fully dressed,
Hat, coat, scarf, shoes,
Lying dead in the bath tub.
I don’t suppose we’ll find out why.
Perhaps we should ask the cuckoo clock.