By John. W
As with those who pursued the monster Frankenstein
The villagers were after him.
All he had touched had turned to trouble
From pub to pub he had crawled
No respite there, only ale and anguish too.
“Before” it had been better
But before was long ago.
The baying of the hounds grew louder
As life chased him down vine covered lanes.
The nearness of his surroundings pressed upon him
He knew of nowhere to turn
He could run no more, had not the power to
“You need fight no more” he heard from somewhere
With a new found strength
A first step he could suddenly take.
At the pier he arrived and onto the dinghy he stumbled
The tether loosened, the current not he at the tiller
Somehow the lonely night had become day
Although no passing time did he perceive
The Pier Was Burning in the distance
“As is my life” he admitted,
For the first time, to himself or to anyone,
In that moment came the surprise . . .
For he wistfully added “. . . and I know why!”
It was then he felt the nudge of the shoreline.
This new place he did not know or recognize
Still, as he stepped upon the shore, he felt “Home”
Those he encountered were friendly enough
Even a familiar face or two came forth to greet him.
They said: “We have been saving a seat for you.”
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