Crooked Tiles - Pram

The sky keeps on weeping

The sun is sleeping

Don’t wake the moon

The light would show the cracks in her face

The earth on its ancient last legs

Wobbles round the sun

Like a drunk around a lamp post

And I shut my mouth sore from cursing

And my eyes that are tired of seeing

If I could shake off this feeling

Of being guilty for living

Of never doing what others wanted

Of simply being inconvenient

Then suddenly the sun could warm me

To the marrow of my skeleton

My mind could ride the breezes

Hover and flutter in the cold air