Untitled

The last things and the first things
They all amount to the same
Weather beating on your skull
And a slap to make you cry

You’ll not find much meat on my bones
And my soul is ready to fly.

Howl howl oh mother
For life has come to play
The jester
The joker
And you’ve nothing left to say.

Howl and moan like the wind in winter
Come to take the leaves
And no one quite believes
That summer can come again.

With the crunch of gold and brown
Crushed beneath your feet
Your coat brought tight
And your brow in a frown
You bring your foot down
With extra zest and extra vigour
And beneath the leaf
That life has laid
Before your foot
A snail lies unawares.

And you never noticed that the crunch was more solid
Your never noticed the blood on your boot
But life tends to play with us some days
And your will becomes mute.