The trusting fool

You used to call my name.
I’d laugh and joke with you.
You used to call my name,
but now our gaming’s through.

You used to walk with me.
We’d talk about life’s truths.
You used to walk with me,
but now our soles are bruised.

You used to love me so.
We watched our passion grow.
You used to love me so,
now loss is all I know.

How could I be so gullible
to think it were to be?
For now I am invisible
to all who used to see.


Brown grass in the meadow

Like the elderly cross the road,
I mope through my province,
remembering the times when I out-sped the light.

It’s not age that decays my life,
but acknowledgement;
where I get nothing from my work
no matter how I try.

I sold my soul to no demon.
I’m no killer of a man.
So I live this dull existence,
and die forgotten.

Whilst my heart only beats the once,
yours may find time for two.
I mope through my lonely province,
cursing the design.

Who am I? I will introduce:
I’m the keeper of keys
with all of the potential, yet
I cannot find the door.

Won’t someone push me forward
to the place I want to stand?
I’ve combed through and through my meadow;
searching for who I am.