18.

A year passed ‘til I saw
The police box again;
As I scurried through lashes
Of icy-cold rain

On my way through the town
In search of a gift,
A voice from behind me
Called out “Need a lift?”

I turned to behold
That familiar sight
And stumbled inside
To the warmth and the light

Of the TARDIS—and stopped,
Because inside the door
Was a room quite transformed
From where I’d stood before.

Huge flickering candles
Lit up some great hall
Made of oakwood and stone;
In the midst of it all

Stood the Doctor, blue-clad
With a bag on his hip,
Dressed like the commander
Of some ancient ship.

Though Doctors before him
Had been decades older
This one seemed to carry
A weight on each shoulder.

I quickly approached
This new regeneration
To see what he’d learned
From my examination.

“Well, nothing so far,”
He admitted, “But we
Have lots to discover
And much more to see!”

The same sparkle was there
As he danced left and right
Pulling levers and switches
To make us take flight.

Yet as I compared him
To Doctors of old
I sensed there was something
I wasn’t being told.

“You must have an inkling,
There’s something you know,
Or can you take us
Where we need to go?”

The Doctor ignored me,
But when we’d departed
Announced “Time to see
Where all of this started…”