It's the silent word that baffles me, it always has.
Mind you, I've a store of throw away smiles, I inherited from my dad.
But it's the silent words that worry me, put a hole in my gut,
Words I sense in the minds of some, they scratch, so deep they cut.
These unspoken ghosts smear cement, block ears and eyes,
Put concrete boots on feet, before they can even try,
To lift the weight of poverty, that has settled like a shroud,
Enveloped each and everyone, in their own black cloud.
But my need is huge, it will not go unmet, and too, my love is great,
So bear with me for a while, you may find you've an angel for a mate.
First let me clear the disaster, sweep dried, bitter memories away,
Like leaves blown about by an autumn wind, then, I'll be ready for my, summers day.
Tushie 1990
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