When

Poem

When does a mess become a muddle?
When does day become the night?
When does a spillage become a puddle?
When does a shudder become a fright?

When does a brag become a boast?
When  does a mess become a fuss?
When does bread become toast?
When does a train become a rail replacement bus?

When  do we become middle aged?
And do we only know we are middle aged when we've lived
Our whole lives?
Is it only then that we can look back and say, oh yes,
That's when I was middle aged, that's when I had a
Midlife crisis,
The day I went out and bought a jetski?

When  does a crowd become a throng?
When do pants become a thong?
When does a dirge become a song?
When does a whiff become a pong?

When does a settee become a sofa?
When does a look become a demeanour?
When does a pamphlet become a brochure?
When does a verbal warning become a grievance procedure?

When did I decide that maybe you weren't the one for me?
Was if at the opera, or was it in the supermarket?
Or was it that time I came home and found you in bed
With a stamp collector from Barnstaple?

When does a trumpet become a bugle?
When does an imposition become an impertinence? 
When does prudent become frugal?
When does a TV advert become a nuisance?

When does pruned become sheared?
When does uncanny become weird?
When does stubble become a beard?
When does a poem not have to rhyme?

When do we lose ourselves to the delirium of the
Beauty of the world of the planet of the people of the creatures
Of the moon of the tides of the sea of the land of the cities of the
Absolute if the spiritual of the technological or the brave of the bountiful
Of the beautiful, possibly at two PM on a Thursday afternoon.

When does it all become meaningless?