Me aged ten

Once a free spirit
Free to roam the barren land
Did I envisage the future I was to inherit
A future written on sand
Written with ease
With a stroke of a stick
Then blown away with a breeze
Which made me sick

Did my wings get clipped
When I reached ‘God’s own country’
Or merely was I tripped
When I thought everything was going to be rosy
New languages to study
New friends to meet
When life started to get muddy
Instead of getting sweet.

Please follow and like us:

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.