Bones are aching
Blood is raw
All this waiting
What’s this for?
Feet are itching
Limbs are sore
Brain it’s bitching
What’s this for?
Soul is shackled
Lies on show
Ceaseless cackles
What’s this for?
Life is listless
Love is low
Bruised and bristled
What’s this for?
Troughs and peaks
We rise to fall
Famine and feast
What’s this for?
What’s this for?
It’s all to know
It’s all to journey
That’s what this is for
The calming, steady hand of sobriety For days and weeks and months Holds and comforts Soothes and cools Dilutes the cruel Guiding the hours And steering the minutes Sheltering from showers And looming
The bronzen dale lay bathed Lit gold by the late-day sun Wonderfully, Gloriously swathed While the light warns of night-time to come The fading bracken paints Vivaciousness stained on the hill While l
His broken heart won’t mend But he’s laying down foundations To simply walk again With lowered expectations One foot before the next Is what he aims to do Its nowt that can’t be mended With a metric l