Things I could be if I wasn’t quite so busy being me.

I could climb up a mountain

I could swim in the sea

I could play a game of bingo

I could plant me a tree.

I could chase down some chickens

I could milk me a cow

I could change a carburettor ( but I don’t know how. )

I could write me a letter

I could think of a word

I could try to get better at pretending I’m a bird.

I could roast me a dinner

I could fly me a kite

I could go to sleep in the afternoon ( but it wouldn’t feel right.)

I could draw me a circle

I could work out a square

I could think about Pythagoras but he wouldn’t care.

I could read me a book

I could phone up a friend

I could find me a starting point or better still an end.

I could pop me a weasel

I could walk down the line

I could comb my hair with teasel and it might look fine.

I could stop for a moment

I could try to be still

I could try again to meditate ( but don’t think I will )

I could wash up the dishes

I could lick clean the plates

I could enter the stratosphere or go see my mates.

I could dance me a polka

I could sing me a tune

I could overstay my welcome taking too much room.

I could walk for a mile with a stone in my shoe

I could paint me a picture in seven shades of blue.

I could reinvent the whistle

I could write a magazine

I could pen an epistle to the likes of Michael Sheen

I could find a cure for cancer

I could train me some mice

I could drop dead on Thursday ( which wouldn’t be that nice. )

I could look for a reason

I could sharpen a pin

I could mess around with memories knowing where to begin.

I could empty the bins

I could sweep up the floor

I could try to count my blessings

I could try to break the law.

I could rehome a pigeon

I could take down a tent

I could chop apart some metaphors and borrow what was lent

I could dig me a hole

I could fry me an egg

I could knit a woolly jumper or teach myself to beg.

I could measure the weather

I could retell a tale

I could live for forever in the belly of a whale.

I could open a window

I could look for the pope

I could fill myself with liquorice and spotted almond soap.

I could turn me the tables

I could cut me a dash

I could pay off my credit card but I don’t have the cash.

I could lift my aspirations

I could shoot for the moon

I could come back on Friday but that might be too soon.

I could let things go

I could watch things grow

I could emulate a butterfly whose lost in the snow.

I could turn me a corner at the edge of a page

I could ride a bike to Oswestry and try to find a wage

I could do so much more

I could try to be less

I could find out what im good at

I could try to do my best.

At the end of the day we are wormfood and dust

We will all be forgotten in the residue and rust

We are here for a while till the moment has passed

And must try to pin our colours on a Millow of the Bast.