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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