That's Poetry. Poetry Corner.
Hesitantly,
reluctantly,
Helen slipped out of her slim, tight-waisted waspy
and stood naked in the moonlight before me.
Somewhere a clock chimed three.
An owl hooted in the nearby copse.
No wind stirred the casement window,
she stood in the pale translucent light on the Persian carpet.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Then, another minute.
Then...
... another minute passed.
Then another minute passed.
And another.
A further minute passed quickly, followed by another minute,
when suddenly...
... a different minute passed,
followed by another different minute.
And another.
And yet another further different minute.
A minute passed.
I glanced at my watch.
T'was a minute past.
This was it!
A minute passed.
After a moment, another minute passed.
I waited a minute while a minute passed quickly past.
And then, a minute which seemed to last an hour but was only a minute...
... passed.
That was A Minute Passed, by John Finlayson.
You can hear episode nine of A Minute Passed tomorrow night at a minute past.
From Monty Python's Previous Record. Reprinted without permission. Buy the disk here.
