What would the dates matter
Or the photographs
Or the fading sounds
Of the trains leaving the Somerset levels
One year, or the next
What difference to the indifferent
One colour, or another
What irregularities do we harbour
If the weakness is a weakness
Then let it be so
Don’t you go trying to find out
What isn’t there to be found out
Look at the print
Of the Rothko untitled painting
In the right light, in the right place
At the right time
So be there for the laughter
And carry on with Zhivago
To set aside is to set aside
There is no more to it than that
