Changing of the Guard

an evening stroll through an early Spring

walking with the traffic of the ants

on hands and knees

singing for my supper on a page of Sunday Times.

apricot youths mocking my red current eyes

my crooked spine

roaring with the Tigers beneath Saturns fallen trees

silent shadows of pedestrian feet knotting the terror of my hair.

two bluebells and a daisy chain

as Saplings laugh as Willows age and rest beneath my crawl

my morning coffee lost inside the stomach of the Moon

my thirsty hands, though freezing cold

warming the heart of my one last - rain soaked - cigarette;

my lady of the park

my mother of pearl and compass

locked inside the somewhere of my gated grinding gut

trusts no-one save the guiding locks of leaves

with her lightening seed inside her cage of endless steel;

I am the brother of her cries

but just a hobo in a drunken state of total disarray

a snowflake on a mountain range melting on a yesterdays sun.

an alien in human form

sleeping alone with the medals of my constant war;

take to the streets of a paradise lost

at what cost,

will bring about a changing of the guard?