It’s time for tea and dunking
A crisp Digestive biscuit
But before immersion into the hot beverage
And to aid entry into my mug
I snap the biscuit in two
The contours of my broken biscuit
Remind me of a Norwegian coastline
With their fiords , coves , peninsulas and inlets
I wonder whether the snapped shape is unique
Or whether another dunker has ever
Snapped or will ever snap the exact same shape
A shape that would mate exactly with one half of mine
To form the perfect Digestive circle
With no hint of forced togetherness
I surmise that given sufficient dunkings
Over untold millennia and myriads of time
By the laws of probability
There must have been or will be a perfect mate
In the same way surely
That enough explosions in a printing factory
Could produce the complete works of Shakespeare
Or the union of two gene pools could produce an identical twin
From different parents
Great thoughts and musings
Are prompted during dunkings
But now it is time to savour
My soft and warm Digestive fragment
Which I must ingest quickly
Before it becomes too tea –sodden and structurally unstable
With the ever present risk of disintegration
Breaking off and sinking to the bottom of my mug
Such important ponderings must therefore cease