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26-8-2025 Rusty Return to Form
I’ve always felt like ‘that boy’,
The scared little kid,
Nervous white fingers,
Clutched on his toys.
All the other kids play together,
I figured they’d invite me,
Every kid deserves as much as joy.
And every time I feel like,
‘Maybe I’ve grown’,
Life likes to remind me of humility and death,
God’s envoys.
My Mum’s love,
The prize treasured most by ‘that boy’.
Could’ve lost my mum,
The gun takes,
Leave me no choice.
Somebody else can choose,
To take my life,
And destroy.
I’m once again reminded,
On my passing days,
My mum might not hear my parting voice.
Copyright ©
R.P. Grcic
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