“Quick, The Dock Leaves!”

Pen inked hands full of reminders and signals
Remember that there are no signposts deep in the jungle
The little nicks on each and every finger that indicate either fighting or trying
And his jeans are too long so they twiddle into every puddle, all of the shit and leaf muddles

Again he falls with bow and arrow taking the aim in spite of the pain and sorrow
As he thuds to the floor, he screams for more as he knows that it’ll all be worth it
Despite all the tears and the horror, he may stumble upon the finding and honour
He’d risk his life and mind because he once knew of love before

You can repair him with medicine so natural that it jumps from the breast
A little heart help required to see him through the worst of his deaths
That tiny bright light that always pulls him through the darkest of paths
A warm hand that reaches beyond the call of duty to soothe and show beauty

Standing tall on the front line with his hand clenched on the left of his chest
His eyes tight shut, hope is his only protection against what ever happens next…
There must be someone, somewhere and so he chances everything to declare:

“They say that the best things in life are free,
So here I am: good for nothing…
Come and find me"





© 2007 Steven Pottle