Shoulders sag,
from the weight of
no expectation.
Amid a rush of mad air.
Autumn already
hangs heavy, or is
it guilt, your
nightly ghost?
Under my words,
a pause in the world.
Knowing something,
and going places.
For God and Queen and Country
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 