My Desk

MY DESK At me station Where I am bound, And found Most days, Where words wander, In and out of thoughts that pander, To where for some I am poet of writing down, Lines of hope, love, quotes, and notes of thought, Or otherwise you see, I am historian, researcher, genealogist of forbears, And back in time my attention is drawn figuratively To the works of peasants and workers in fields, Of others standing in the dock Accused of stealing a half-penny’s worth of hope, Or others who have risen up and struck against The tyranny of mankind’s laws and religious views, And for some they made the journeys To another side of the flat earth believed at the time. Then my role some days, Can be literally Counsellor to kids, In my guise as dad over transfer of conversation tool, But at me station most days, I am distributing life to meet my needs And to satisfy my wants, Of feeling good, Of feeling worthwhile, That my day is constructed well To the furtherance of soul And my station most days I’m found. Francis Cooper – Mac © 08-Jul-20