if i could walk away and endlessly roam
where if i wanted to would i stop
it seems there are no safe havens left
in a world so troubled in all its corners
i am changed from the man i once was
the past receding at nightmare speed
diminishing my returns at every turn
and every face that i ever looked upon
has turned away and shed more than one tear
an ocean's worth of bought occurrences
i am cheap as a market stall gift
as throwaway as the rest of humanity
writing words to pin on clouds
conjuring dreams to hang my hopes
laughing in the face of a mottling mirror
i am indeed imperfect and lost, perhaps
already journeying out there on the road
walking away and endlessly roaming
with no need to stop even if i wanted to
[at the sound of the bell
press the carriage release lever]
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An excellent poem there Colin — It needs reading and re-reading. Be proud!
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that’s very kind of you Kim – I promise I will try very hard to be proud š
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š
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I agree – have just read this three times – the metaphors are awesome.
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Thanks VJ, kind words indeed to start my day. Hope your day is kind to you too. Cheers, Col.
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My pleasure Colin!
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This business of having no safe havens to visit is a sobering observation. The dispensability of ourselves too, in the current climate, hangs very heavy on all of us. We are all using this bizarre time to re-evaluate, more than we though possible. Good work Colin.
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Thanks Graham – yes this bizarre time is certainly messing with us in many ways. Thanks for stopping by, much appreciated.
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