Vacancy

Who will send the spinning stones
Across the chaos of the road
To tumble through the slotted jaws of hell?
And who, with perfect measured stride,
Will step upon the other side
Before the killer crow can pass the post
And cast his dread satanic spell?
 
Who'll enumerate the railings' bars,
Approximate the speed of cars
By counting seconds till they disappear?
Whose finger-snap will always coincide
With kettle switch and - if they've tried -
Old Big Ben's chimes? Who'll conjure rhymes
That split her face from ear to ear?
 
Who'll tally bricks and estimate
A buildings volume and its weight
And time a rock's descent into the sea?
And who will check the altitude of birds and planes,
The height of trees and weather-vanes
If not me? There's a vacancy...
Oh, and they'll need
 
A needle eye to unpick the random tapestry
And sew her silhouette into their memory -
A stitch in time saves one -
And a pearly shell to catch her observations,
Gleaming drops of conversation,
Fresh as dew, transparent, true...
Who'll do these things when I am gone?