The love song of J. Alfred Rottie

And would it have been worth it, after all,

After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Would it have been worth while,

To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

To roll it toward some overwhelming question,

To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—

If one, settling a pillow by her head,

Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.

That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,

Would it? Will it?

Before we get too old for anything more than cups of tea and marmlade-soaked toast, pension payouts, and a fading glint in our rheumy eyes?

Say hello to my little friend ;)

(Due apologies to T. S. Eliot)

(And apologies for the crap formatting. Blogger's acting up again)