To the Man Who Died in a Doorway in Stirling


Photo by Taufiq Klinkenborg Pexels

The weight of the world smothers you

Like a wet wool blanket

And still, you lie there.



Your eyes - dusted in grime

Follow my reflection on the ground

As my footsteps silence the sound

Of a town laid on its side.


A red umbrella flicks to the right

And you hide from the eyes of a pigtailed child,

Who skips behind a balding builder wiping pie grease

From his mouth.

I step out of their world and into space.


Over and around you I listen

And like a shell pressed upon my ear

All I can hear is the sea and my heart

Saying, I’m afraid of you.



I’m afraid if I don’t shake you

Who the hell will wake you?

But I won't shake you

For fear of hearing you rattle

Like a bag of bones.



I find your cup, drop a coin and say

‘Sorry man.’ Just like the last time

And I wonder,

When the first freeze frosts the leaves

Will you see sparkles

When I see dust.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Welcome to my new home. Thank you for coming. Please stay a while.

The Break of Dawn