These days a visit to the loo
Is approached with a sense of awe
For we have one of those bogs
That isn’t joined to the floor.
As we gingerly sit
Suspended on the throne
Are we kept there in place
By an act of faith alone.
Should our belief
Fracture and crumble
Could our necessary visit
Terminate in a terrible tumble.
Is it wise to tamper with
Life’s one immutable law
The structure of a closet
Should be resting on the floor