against

the edge of my island is always in view

as billows of sea waves roll

and though i am sure of how it's secure

the pounding does take its toll

i've built up my stand with a few sturdy bricks

i sit here in certainty

watching the rest buffet forward and aft

alone it sometimes must be

the thunderous roar of prevailing winds

cannot ever knock me down

though ship after ship sinks right to the depths

i'm safe on the high ground

ironic it is on my sandy shore

that more don't join me here

preferring instead to be tossed all about

while i'm without any fear

no flags fly above the soft golden sands

i'm rather incognito

keeping still as they bellow to another

it's better they don't know

no shame in my snug little peaceful hut

but the storm-tossed can't think straight

seeing just the sea where the next wave may be 

everything else becomes bait

my heart takes courage as my i glimpse in the east 

others who are standing true

i'm not alone in this turbulent night

he has preserved a few

someone once wisely said to pick battles

with kids who are immature

i smile and nod and choose to say not a word 

the world blindly seeks a cure

in the sunlight

i've never counted life in years

moments like pearls on a strand

time doesn't pass it lingers

alive in each encounter i hold

fully here yet missing in a memory

i wander with eyes wide shut

looking around the next corner

for something i lost but never had

surrounded in the sunshine with wings

a thousand butterflies on fire

my life is a story someone is telling

the next page will not turn

i must await the reader's cue

so much glorious heartbreak in a word

ahead the light is shining brightly

the next moment will be silver-lined

still missing

it's thursday and a cold wind is blowing the snow
distracting my eyes like the news story of the boy
missing these ten long years and how does a teen
walk down the street and take the train to london
town and become one with the thin air it just does
not
make
sense
though the wind is blowing i have a coat and hat
i have a house and a job and people that love and
hug and care for me and he presumably had all
that as well yet he walked away from it all with
his favourite outfit a couple hundred quid and
never
came
back
his family keeps his room his copy of tolkien on
the shelf with locks on doors unchanged thinking
ten years on he might still have that key in his
pocket he might still come home and it's a chilly
february but the mind must and reconcile to
keep
hope
alive
sure there are some of us who secretly dream of
disappearing so the rare person who succeeds
haunts not just his grieving family but a world
that wants to know the rest of the story and
perhaps it may still be a happy ending but i fear
nobody
will
know