Wells: words lodged up, up, up North in our head:
Tense suspension, leased out with ill used time.
Racking the debt up, up, of things to be said.
And as they cross over the imaged line,
Between the comfort and the great unknown,
Who to them am I, if I am left behind?
Since we were young, I’ve lead and shown
You how to be brave and conquer your fears.
Yet now you turn to face the world alone?!
I was your strength, for all those years!
You’ll trip, you’ll die, all by yourself!
Hence to my eyes there wells up all these tears.
And even these will not deter your way.
So full of yourself, there’s nothing I can say.