The Crocks
As Plato says, the perfect plate
Is in the Cupboard in the Sky –
Whereas, the china made of late
Is rather less than meets the eye.
And that’s because, as Plato says,
They’re all reflections, second-hand –
The perfect plate, we have to guess,
Is more than we can understand.
So is it bone or porcelaine ?
And just how deep, and just how wide ?
And round or square ? And striped or plain ?
And is it scalloped round the side ?
Yet plates for boats or finger buffets
Have a diff’rent set of needs –
And no one plate can be enough,
For each one fails, and each succeeds.
And good luck getting customers
To all agree on which is best –
For what one hates, their twin prefers,
And ev’ry taste must be addressed.
Plato thought the perfect plate
Was out there, where the angels eat.
But surely any tool is great
That holds our food up nice and neat ?
Of course, the concept of ‘perfect‘ is as childish as the concept of ‘infinity’.
Rhyming Couplets 