Potential

I stood on the metal bridge
watching boats and yachts
in the harbor
all with their potential
shackled and tied to the shore
the lights of building and masts
reflecting in the calm
the sound of lapping and the smell of salt
a choir of gentle actions against
this grief of bondage
I felt my potential shackled too

I felt choices had been removed
and the pound in my pocket
too precious to pout
no longer disposable
—————————–
unfinished
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Rip 2004 – 2012 the bewildered years
where food became less, beer became more
guilt grew as a sunflower
whiskey in my pocket ciggy in my mouth
and the final rehab was a move to wales
where the inner spirit heals
still I look for Gabriel in the specks of dust
all a parting gift from a star