Last farewell

The note is laid,
To whom it may concern,
No blame is taken or passed out, The final goodbye from this broken soul,
No cryptic clue lost in its text,
No hesitation in self extinction,
No discussion to avoidance, One iron act of will spelt out on scarlet flecked paper your first clue, But all too late to help my animation, cold and still,
It tells not of the razors bite on tender flesh,
Or how its furrow reminds me of autumn fields,
Or how it glides through sinew and fibre,
Like a knife through summers butter,
Claret jets with the grace of fountains through spring air,
But with my lifeblood unending in this lifetime,
Euphoria hits like cannabises first hit on a teenage mind, Driven on and through by pressure beyond these protective walls, Whose comfort I stepped beyond in cat like curiosity,
To a world too uncompromising to be mindful of me,
In childlike innocence I welcomed it with open arms,
But trampled by its aggression and impatience,
My dreams lay shattered at my feet, Leaving me alone in this crowd unseen,
Afraid and lonely lost in the cold of a starry night , So to become just another number,
One more statistic to lay forgotten in a file,
One more slab of named and dated stone,
Sunk into soil in a forgotten corner of this frightful land, And I lay cold,
But still warmer than the life I left behind.

Harsh one, so here is a picture of some bonsai Larch pine cones…………

Better? My wife hates this poem, it was not written during a particular low point in my life, its just an idea that came to me one day. It asked to be written, so I obliged. Many things I write, wether a short story or poem, I may have an idea, but it can change mid draft, and I end up miles from where I thought I would be. I work the same way with my wooden projects, i have an idea and then see where the wood takes me. This one actually made me take a deep breath when I read it, its a strong collection of words. Here is a picture of a Lilly taken while in New Zealand……

So, I am not sure what is left to say about this poem, just my imagination working overtime.

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