The Golden Cup
there he sat, still an Restless
under the muddy light post
on the Slimy, Cruel hill
the Dust blew in a daze
and Mud spat in his face
the Rain began.
there he watched his home Bury away
his mother, father, sister, and son
fly deep into the waves
the Fog sat in, and sat thick
while the Wind roared in wheezing and pushing
the rain kept on
then came a rich, beautiful man
bearing a clean red cross on his chest
his smile sympathetic, but reason hollow
Depression crept in, slow and quiet
picked a spot and was made comfortable
the Rain crashed hard
but there, behind the clean blond hair
over the mud, and past the dirt
a smooth, white cloud beckoned.
his heart, blackened and crushed.
the Rain, deep and dark inside, had Stopped.
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