Wednesday, 25 April 2012

The Convalescent

An era has gone, our era has gone
Do you still bite your lip when nervous?...
My life has become a series of dreams
My feet do someone else a service...
I sing, I write, draft words from the soul
It comes out in gushes, with gushes it flows...
We know many, miss few, still fewer match our beat
You'll live with me forever, there's no such word as 'unmeet'......