I Paid The Ferryman
Poetry 2004

Grey might

Strange but spring arrives regardless
Of how we treat it through the years
Totally oblivious the crocus
To the poor old humans plight

The sun warmed neck of a snowdrop
Would bow down beneath the sun
Even if we were not here to witness
It being done

The gulls don’t care, because they are unaware
Of the grey might sailing underneath
And its destiny like its ancestry
On a futile trip to sea

His fellow gulls
With there mocking screams
Or mimics of the loved ones tears
As they glide through
black, out and on
Through Pompeys tired eyes