My Can Is History

On the shores of the vast sea
without anxiety I saunter
after all,what’s summer meant for?
But relishing the gentle atmosphere?

Feeling the murky waters
sometimes plunging in them
the waves comfort me
to the farthest side I travel

but the mighty Zola asleep it isn’t
always with zest awaits the beast
to grasp and gnash its prey
as it dances around,wagging it’s tail

and i was no exception
my poor leg wailed in its jaws
tearing it into pieces
never to be picked up

an amputation ensues
now i cannot visit the sea
i cannot pay visits now,not now,not ever
my can is history.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s