Wishes to be heard above the noise.

Wishes to be noticed in the crowd.

Wishes to blossom and bloom, to flower.

Would scratch a living in the dark.

Would scratch himself and drink warm blood.

Would rather be there than over here.

All these windows and doors and nowhere

to go. All the world to harvest

but nowhere for storing fruit or grain.

Would prefer just whitewash and plain walls.

Would bandage up wounds, ignore the pain.

Would rather be here than over there.

Wishes to be petal, root and stem.

Wishes to be heard but not seen.

Wishes to be noticed for what’s done

not for what’s been said. Apparently wishes

can only sometimes come true. Like dreams.


© Rupert M Loydell
Illustration Nick Victor




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