He was an old man to us children
Long unkempt white hair
But brown wrinkled skin from hours
spent in wind rain and sun
He spent his time wandering the country paths
and woodland trails
Our parents said we should keep away
but we weren't scared
We found his home in the bushes overlooking
the road leading into town
A tatty threadbare tent just big enough for one
containing a couple of blankets and a well worn
army greatcoat
At school we used to have lessons about nature study
but that old man was better than any teacher I ever had
He would spend what seemed like hours
talking to us kids
Where honey came from, what wild plants were good to eat
and the ones to avoid
He knew the lives and habits of just about every wild
animal and bird
Then one day he was gone, we never did find out where
His tent and few bits were removed by the authorities
And within months that patch in the bushes had grown over.

I look back on those early years and wonder if it was that
old man who gave me my love of nature.

So sick of this war,
Keeps pulling me under.
So tired of this monster
And it's brutal force
Keeps pushing me to suffer.

What ever happened to the good times?
The laughs,
The love,
The happiness?
What ever happened to support?

The demons push,
Shove,
beat, bruise, batter.
Making my world a dull one.
Filled with nothing but Crimson liquid and tears
Year after year.

Look at me,
What have I become?
Another victim,
Another pawn for their entertainment.

Lets play a game,
Where you pretend you actually love me,
Instead of telling me that my eyes are the same colour
as your favourite pair of jeans that you constantly poke holes in.

Or where you don't tell me that my smile is like a toe nail,
Because I know how much you don't like your toe nails.
Don't tell me my eyes have the same sparkle as stars,
Then go on to mention how stars are small and insignificant.

For this game only don't compliment my physical appearance,
Tell me  how my poetry speaks to your soul,
Even though I know very well how much you hate it,
Tell me I have a beautiful heart without having to compare me to mother Theresa.

No wait lets change the rules,
You are going to sit there and listen to me while I talk,
You are not allowed to interrupt me,
I never do

So before I tell you that its over,
I think you should know that my eyes will not be compared to a pair of jeans you got for $50
They are worth more than that,
My smile is like the crescent shape of a moon,
Not the toe nails you never liked.

And you know what,
Stars are not insignificant you are
And lastly you might not like my poetry,
But I do.