The Unremarkable Life of Mr Percival Tucker
Percival Tucker rose at noon, then wept,
He ate and then at dusk again he slept,
It matters not what he thought or did say
But where his frail body to rest did lay.
I did not know him well, nor did many;
Yet he was there for all to see:
Pinned by gagging mouths and rolling eyes,
Beaten and bound by subtle sighs.
In the air his voice could be heard
To those that saw the grass draw breath,
But not to us who turned our heads
Whenever his gold tears were shed.
How his eyes did gleam with burning grace,
And how his heart did pulse with fiery love
For the swatted flies and the ants forlorn
That trekked with fear across his dark, cracked floor.
Yet his heart did ache those few long months
Whilst he sat down, beside his phone.
Knees tucked into his bare, gaunt chest,
Listening to the dialling tone.
And the anger he caused that day
To dare delay the ride of Mrs Hayne!
And the horror he caused those kids
As he flung his soul before that train.
The scoffs and groans and sighs
And tuts of dismayed ties
Will amount his bright life
To the eight-minute delay he caused that day.
So Percival will burn with all the rest.
No crowds will weep, nor child protest,
And someone somewhere, yawning at their desk,
Will mark a tally and file another number.
Copyright © Adam Silk | Year Posted 2026
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