Sunday, 6 March 2011

Little Shed

I ran into the little shed
For shelter from the storm.
Comforting pine wood panels
Kept me dry and safe and warm.

The lightning flashed,
The thunder roared,
As I played with some sawdust
And drew on some old bits of board.

I drew a picture of yesterday
With my finger in the dirt -
Of sunshine and those blue skies
And the little girl I'd hurt.

I'm drawing pictures now of another day
Called sometime soon and when,
But she'd cried when she saw the rain fall.
Perhaps the sun'll soon shine again?

If it does then she'll forget me
And marry, have children galore,
But I hate the thought of more rain for her.
And wish I'd thought of that before.

The windows are hazy - like my mind.
I reach out to try and clear
But whatever it is that makes me unkind
Is stuck on the outside I fear.

 

October 1972

 

 

 

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