The Little Tramp
The Little Tramp


I often find myself at the Crossroad
of exuberance and strictures
Is it the fault of my innocence
that belies my expectations?
Gone are the days of crowded corners
Streaming friendship and committed cricketers
Gone are those etherealised evenings
empty canvasses
and melancholic mourners
Gone are those fiercely firing foes
starkly stubborn sharks
and bullying black sheep of benevolence.
Gone are those normally abstract ideas
dazzling deep-rooted doubts
and performing post-operative odours
The challenge still awaits
the sound still separating
strong, stony silence of solitude.