The single caviar of his head
which he let edgingly bleed
is overburdened by a weighty load
to match his father's need;
sweating as much as a tear,
he breaks down, and is buried in the ground,
resurrected by a breeze, that was my prayer;
new hope for him is found
only the distance of a smile away now;
from what God our father
for his father has decreed;
appetite enough to feed on an ant of a smile
were it to come from his own
precious
seed.

MEMORY
for Christ my Lord

Youth, like a school holiday,
forever gone by
has left memories of a childhood
that was a rose.
Vandalised and left now,
by all except Jesus
who tends his carnation
as it grows.