Home ยป Iron Drops
Waking up was just the alarm before his eyes,
He needn't move an arm for silence brought,
Shallow breath, deep then, slow yet still,
It felt almost like the last, every second of it.
Opening his creases away, how he'd imagine!
If it were just an effort to walk, just by step fro,
One foot steps over, and the other follows;
How now would life be, these steps so grand?
He couldn't care, and still he walked for food,
It was the favourite he had, and all eyes revealed.

Trying to get out through the door was nigh,
How cruel its design to choose what form pass!
No, he thought, no! For God truly does test me:
For faith is not defined by the form you wear,
But by the heart you bear; with that he marched!
What etiquette! Needn't dare to think a minute!
The door bellowed through, cracked and stormed,
Not even quakes as harsh as Bam's wouldn't dare!
Behind him was once a door, its walls crumbled too:
Yay, what of it? Free! Like the break from prison,
It brought with him his thoughts, creed and life.

The ducks would quack, and even mirrors not break!
In fact, such mirrors as polished silver would glare
Behold such a man, his suit of armour unmatched,
Included with batteries, with but a head and hands,
Whose base once covered by steel like welded trunk,
He could have been a robot, a form, nay, between;
What of it, the folk would picture him and giggle,
It could have been a prank! His batteries too!
If then, then why does he march barefoot in rain?!
Whereas a park's breathing beauty calls but vain,
It was here his journey was now mainstay!

Like the red carpet, each step brought miles more,
Yet longed to gasp, his breath be shaken, took sight,
With such hands feeling cold and ne trembling cease,
Dispatched his dignity by cheering at warmsome lake,
None would know who he was, nor his armour's brand,
Though this he knew, and spoke candid sweet and soft,
Was directed upon reflection his amber suit revealed,
As rather a lake could so clear can run murky swift,
Whose rippling tears drooped trees on his mistake,
And with that every sound faded, and his eyes widened,
For a first in his life he could catch glimpse of a self,
Shaved of what meaning for his armour be removed?
No! he thought, it is what keeps me alive and here!

At last ere such tears would bulge a storm,
He resigned to breath the green, free air and seep,
Like a smoke of green every other man would keep,
It seemed like he was high this journey whilst it drew,
Amidst a trail of chaos stood in wake, 
Did smile was he in utmost shake,
Then heard the rain's steel-stoning sound,
Ere tasting the iron drops, it came to him:
Whose penultimate alarm did hither wake,
Rudely terminating a blissful dream in state.

This was the story when last he was found,
Whence forthwith bored and hulled to life,
Though it was not enough to stop his dream,
For who am I to tell one that dreams are death?
Yet I slept and cried still as warm my breath,
Did hear again my dear son's attempt from bed,
Then beheld him by God's word such dream led,
Though least he tried, and that shall suffice,
In spite of what ghastly metal they call device,
For prolonged was he in aerated gear,
He dared hope for others not dream in fear.

I led my son as though his breath still held,
Like winterdrops his cheeks could dart,
How pale even roses from afar could stain!
%d bloggers like this: