All aboard
the locomotive,
flee from those
with loco motives.
I’ll be gone,
will no one notice?
Either way
today’s my solstice.
Over your shoulder,
what was it that you say?
I’m hoping one day soon that
I’ll be dead in the UK.
I hear cliffs
calling my name out
I won’t slip,
but I’ll go all the way down.
This is it,
it’s the freedom of my soul.
My last breath
to the kingdom is my toll.
On my way home,
I am so sorry I can’t stay.
Before the next morning
I’ll be dead in the UK.
Grasses grow green
and every blade has a history.
Castles come clean
all while they’re laden with victories.
Up before the dawn
when my ancestors will meet me.
Floral skies and lawns
I’m drawn to spirits that greet me.
Open-ended moment,
epitaph on a new page.
When all the words are read, well
I’ll be dead in the UK.
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