Next Week... Poem by Paul Reed

Why does the BBC ruin the end
Of a TV drama that our minds did bend
For when the show ends with a poignant thought
Over which our minds might have fought
And the complementary music starts to drift in
They go and put it in the bin
Instead of leaving you to ponder and wonder
In with details of next week's' prog' they blunder
Drowning out the sad and wistful theme
Turning it all into a bit of a bad dream
So, BBC, listen here and please be told
We don't need details of next week's episode
Stuck over the end like a sticking plaster
Trampling on our thoughts, a big disaster
When what we want is to digest and reflect
And next week's plotline only serves to deflect.