NIGGLES

In this world we are unprepared
To cope with trivial things
Like when your hands are full of dough
And then the doorbell rings

Or when you come to tie your shoes
Your shoe is black, the lace is too
Of course the lace decides to break
But all your spares are brown or blue

And when you plug the cleaner in
The bag decides to burst
You disappear in clouds of dust
But even that is not the worst

For the ultimate goes wrong
When queuing for the bus
Three go by the other way
Though even that’s not why I fuss

Oh no, the worst is yet to come
For when my bus it does arrive
I’m last of six folk standing there
Conductor shouts just room for five