Carty

Is it love of rain, a bird on the wire, that you rage against, shuffling in the gloom, waiting by the fire, no one flies for you, many come this way, they pester you for hire, ask and ask again, to do what you do, your eyes hide an ire, that’s forever blue, an offering to the grave, a burnt out tyre, is this what you give, always someone's due, their wretched desire, nothing else is true, the miracle they crave, not tongues of a liar, betrayed by brains, rests on a pyre.