A poem about accepting the error you made and unburdening your guilt.

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I lay upon a platform bench
As heavy rain pounds the trench
Sightless eyes do I frequent
The Wind Whistler shows contempt

He asks my name, I turn my head
Says he followed me from Holyhead
Do not cry out, I brought us bread
Let’s sit and talk, see where ’tis led

I open my mouth, but soundless words
Stalk the throat, stokes the herd
Sweaty thoughts, all set to slaughter
My hand reaches for a bottle of water

He leans on over, closing the gap
The fists are hard, dark knuckles rap
Takes the water, and drinks it empty
Says son don’t worry, times aplenty

I gasped the air, all stale and cold
Can’t believe what tales be told
The bench it cracks, under pressure
Since I am not one, upon to leisure.

He laughs and wails as the rain explodes
An eye for an eye, a toe for a toe
Do not forget your time is precious
’Tis chance to reflect on past-time leisures

I speak aloud, all high and mighty
Say Sir! You talk all manner of blighty
Assure me not of what I remember
Of days and nights in cold December

He stares me deep, all low and bold
Eyes all fixed with hollow holes
I explore the feel of soundless chill
Upon my face a tensive shrill

I cry I cry, oh why oh why
Don’t take me yet, I begged the sky
The grasp so cold, I swallow whole
A silence deepens within my soul

He grabs my arm and pulls me too
Clouds do part and sun shines through
A haze of doubt can start to fester
What are clocks but timing jesters

I know to start and pour my heart
The wind it spirals and pulls apart
My head is dry but my cheeks are wet
It’s time, my crimes and guilt are checked

He stands and ponders, thought a while,
Opens his eyes and curls a smile
Says son don’t worry, times aplenty
The clocks still tock without your envy

I wake up ponderosa upon my bed,
But my skin is clean, my mind is set
At last the past has pass the mast
It’s time to find the bright sun again

Gary has lived in Kent all his life and recently took up writing poetry in 2016.

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