So as the years roll on perhaps they all fold

Into one bundling yarn growing clumps of mould

Decaying with aging, pricking threads to pluck

Maybe this is all we have with odd bits of luck

These worn-out young lungs creased to nought

Soulless, sucked of vibrancy we had and ought

To have. But we do not, you know as well as I

Maybe sparks drift on a fresh blueberry sky

Easy may it be to evade telling trees lingering

Hovering delicate still and incessantly saying

You are far more than what you reckoned to be

Doubt it, don't know it, but it is evident to me

So I say to myself as I patter harshly onwards

Mother taught me rightly: you might as well go Forwards

Crush my spirit if you will and leave it flattened sore

But I journey for the prospect of slightly more. 

No, now, I say no and adamantly. Life

Embraces hopeful voices in arms folding hazily

Maybe I am splintered, too fragile to exist but

I have to believe in greater

Greater things than this bit.

True, I shall meet one gentle morning

Pictures glue to fridges amid a soothed snoring

Coffee bubbles boisterous but sweet the same

Radio drones peacefully in a house in my name

Unhooking clinking keys amidst a morn’s kiss

Driving well, thriving well in a bubble’s bliss

A day well done each one and no old turns

A sunlight reflecting all the strangeness I learned