11 OCTOBER 1963, Page 26

Promises

They said that would be fine. The marriage took place. When this grew stale, they said, There'd be another time, Confidently winked, laughing all the way, While the roots grew; sappy,-smooth, An intermeshed array.

Later, with a merry whoop, he twirled her Love into a thousand tangles, Affronted she withdrew and, for safety, Dissipated it in several places.

Annoyed (his game was only halfway through) He tried to catch her, failing, chopped the Tendrils of her love into pieces. Each piece Became an entity she cased within a box.

She made a mound of boxes, coated Them with a ragged bag of ends, for order, And she trundled this around.

A treasure trove of disappointing goodies Maybe, but good for most occasions.

DAVINA GAMMON