a poem of disappointment
A Poem of Disappointment
A knock on my door a friend stood on the tram
he had a book in his hand it was mine I had given to him last Christmas.
He looked disappointed he had expected golden words
to lift his spirit so he could fly, and found dystopian words on paper.
I saw him leave and watched him merge with the sun mist that
hangs between the dales.
How could I tell him the golden words were in an oak chest buried?
On the Saragossa Island and I had thrown the key into the sea,
I had no rowing boat, and the Island was shrouded in an everlasting fog.
Lamented the loss of a friend and began writing about farm animals,
how true they are and then we eat them.