As I went to the station with my lovely, to catch the nine-fifteen
I saw the stationmaster there, with the biggest frown I’d seen
He looked so shocked to see me there, I asked him what was wrong
And when he answered back at me, his face was surely drawn
With shaking hands and ashen brow he pointed at my suit
His pale lips tried to form the words but he found himself quite mute
When he finally got a word out, it was more pained than glad
“Wherever did you get that shade of most unbecoming plaid?”
January 17, 2020
From “The Worst Plaid in the Whole Wide World” by Tilda Sprow
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