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Poem

It’s time for tea and dunking

A crisp Digestive biscuit

But before immersion into the hot beverage

And to aid entry into my mug

I snap the biscuit in half

The contours of my broken biscuit

Remind me of a Norwegian coastline

With their fiords , coves , peninsulas and inlets

I wonder whether the snapped shape is unique

Or whether another dunker has ever

Snapped or will ever snap the exact same shape

A shape that would mate exactly with one half of mine

To form the perfect Digestive circle

With no hint of forced togetherness

I surmise that given sufficient dunkings

Over untold millennia and myriads of time

By the laws of probability

There must have been or will be a perfect mate

In the same way surely

That enough explosions in a printing factory

Could produce the complete works of Shakespeare

Or the union of two gene pools could produce an identical twin

From different parents

Great thoughts and musings

Are prompted during dunkings

But now it is time to savour

My soft and warm Digestive fragment

Which I must ingest quickly

Before it becomes too tea –sodden and structurally unstable

With the ever present risk of disintegration

Breaking off and sinking to the bottom of my mug

Such important ponderings must therefore cease

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