Foxholes

Do not disturb the shadows where the days lay tired sleeping or walk on hot coals through your memories where the dead are keeping watch.

There was something in the, something in the, something, but I now forget, regret? well it rhymes and there were some times, some times, but I forgot again.

It’s just pain relief,
that belief in something bigger than the picture that we see and it seems to work for me, occasionally.

Lost among the lost and who to ask for the directions?

The cemetery is full of those who thought that they weren’t dying and there’s no use in me trying to fool the ace of spades.

© 2019, John Smallshaw.