The deep

Times I have lent, borrowed
and spent are all bent around
an old man’s little finger.

I linger on
long, long after
the audience
has gone,
reviewing the past until
at last
I am satisfied.

Wide of the mark
I may have been in
the city of fallen though
I have seen
the future and it’s called

Through thick and thin
she was always there,
my confidante
when I could
no longer bear
the burden that followed
me everywhere.

And in times of the waste
encased me,
cut copied and ready
to paste me on her
bedroom wall where
less I made haste
the quicker I went,
times I have borrowed
and lent
all spent now.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.