Pieces of eight

David on the treasure trail
a pirate hoisting up the sail,
but here with pots and pans
cardboard boxes
old tin cans
I’m landlocked.

I’ll keep taking all them pills
believing as I do
that’s ‘there’s gold
in them thar hills’
like suds in water
like there ought to be
David’s all at sea

© 2017, John Smallshaw.