Singing Me Homewards

Busted, bruised, part way sober

Sprawled ‘cross spring-broke bed

In a dirt-road cathouse.


Heart out ‘n’ blue

No lace in either  mismatched shoe,

Three-quarter inked tattoo.


It was wrong to leave

But a crime to stay:

Unable to tell the truth

And keep the pace;

Too blind to see the switch;

Too eager for a lighthouse

In fog, blood and cold rain.


But very quietly, insistently,

Blonde angel in a cowboy hat,

Seeing it all through better eyes

Is singing me homewards.



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