Wandering shoeless
I stroll through bushes
whilst looking for
things that sting
Taking up my big stick
I tap gently around
whilst yearning for
notes that sing
**************************
God is watching as the words fly
and as I skid
He throws, instead of plaudits,
black ice to crack my eyes
**************************
For Chris Breen
Stillness, amongst frenzied waves,
a broken voice
cries,
memories of love
about the girl from Kilburn
shoots me down
shuts my sorry mouth,
and true love clears our air
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