This is the tale
of wild hair McGee
affectionatly known
to some as Scotty

Zipping around
the airport with glee
in his big yellow forklift
writing poetry

Many have wondered
how his name came to be
it was hung on his back
by his boss Jeffery

Dumping the bins
in his faithful steed
a machine that is known
as ol' smokey

If you want to judge
the course of the day
just take off his helmet
his hair would then say

A little to the left
no patience left
a little to the right
stayed up late last night

If standing up Straight
you might have to wait
all to the back
your the bottom of the stack

Don't take it personal
it;s not meant to be
all in a days work
for wild hair McGee

Sometimes it's good to cry
and sometimes it's good to hold your head up high
Knowing when is where wisdom lies
Tears must flow, a way of cleansing i'm told
they're precious much more than silver or gold
But this too shall pass as the wise men often say
Hearts grown numb from constant hurts will one day be okay

I was thinking...
Potential is nothing
Until it is realised.

Move so swiftly
full of grace,
don't let your muscles bother you
with their dull aches.

You are flying
so high in your mind,
and your body falls into
a rhythm so undefined.

As you move
with the speed of light,
something upsets your groove
and everything goes dark.

You black out
your rhythm is lost,
now you're full of doubt
and everything is collapsing.

With a phenomenal effort
you refocus yourself,
you're covered in dirt
but you can't help but feel better.

Move once more
with grace and rhythm,
your aches are behind closed doors
and you sprint forwards into the future.