Oddly

Oddly the world tilts on a sideways grin,
Where teacups hum and shadows wink within.
A sock may wander off to find its mate,
While clocks retreat to tea‑time, half past eight.

The rain composes sonnets on the pane,
And laughter sprouts in lanes of rust‑stained rain.
In every corner, peculiar sings—
A cat that debates, a spoon that swings.

So let us cherish the queer, the askew,
The delightfully strange that breaks the rue—
For life’s true colour glows most bright
When viewed askew, delightfully oddly, light.