She walks towards the door
  But she has to stop and stare
At the berry in the hall,
  On the table near the chair,

A single bright red dot
  On the polished table top.
It gives the line of afternoon
  An unforeseen full-stop.

She lets this small red globe
  Be the focus of her gaze,
And lets all other thoughts
  Be enveloped in a haze,

Lets the small red berry
  Fill the space inside her head,
Beneath her windswept hair
  That itself is slightly red,

Blonder than the sunburnt grass
  In fields beside the sea,
Not as blond as sunlight
  When the day decides to be,

Not as red as sunburnt skin
  Beneath a dome of blue
That stays unscarred by clouds.
  It seems to be brand new.

It shelters this small planet
  On its orbit round the sun,
Looked down upon by God.
  His badge says 'Number One'.

She looks down at the berry.
  He sees a small blue ball.
Does the thought within God's head
  Fill the mind down in the hall?

Does the same idea
  Make their mental workings tick:
"If I were to eat that,
  Would it make me sick?"