Weed
We went to Spain with a pot head
the son of a good friend of ours,
our families travelled together
towing caravans driving for hours.
Our son was the only one with us,
they took their own son, and his friend,
although their son’s mate was quite normal
their son drove us all round the bend.
At night the lads went out together
determined that they’d have some fun
but Philip, the lad who’s a druggy,
would take them where dealing was done.
My son Ron and Philip's mate told him
that drugs always damage the mind,
alas, Philip was messed up already
so just wanted to mix with his kind.
By day both his parents were lovely
but their son gave them nothing but hell,
they tried to control his behaviour
but all he would do was rebel.
He ruined their three week vacation,
there was little that they didn’t try
and Haley, his mother, spent hours
just sitting alone where she’d cry.
I’m writing this poem for Philip
to show him the hurt and the pain
his habit is causing his family,
just what does he think he will gain.
No one needs drugs to support them
or maybe some think it’s just fun,
even those who then stay clean forever
can never put right what they’ve done.
Ivor G Davies
Copyright © Ivor Davies | Year Posted 2016
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