Today I arrived on a train

Into rain. Once again.

Happy to greet

Mr Oaks on the street

Who taught me so badly

At college but gladly

My feet stop to whisper

A hi, and then smile

As a mile of old friends

And warm waving hands

Are here braving this rain.

I muse at theatre where

Plays I have staged, at

Reviews I have raged and

A few I have paged to my mum

and my dad “They weren’t so bad!”

A hundred mementos of kindness

and gladness, in bars and in clubs

And a few tales of badness.

Then arrive at my studio, cosy

and heated, a day spent in

fighting for good, not defeated.

The seagull is there on the sill

with a look, that can read me

its beady young eye like a book.

It says: Feed me.

Then into a world of virtual lands

Where the greetings are equally

warm, shaking virtual hands.

A tiredness creeps yet the energy

rises, as poets and writers pen

gorgeous suprises and never

do rest.. A hundred warm faces, from

faraway places to soothe all

away a day of exhaustion and

gloom and plain gray.

Yet lurking in here, are the souls

who are victims of virtual anger

and displacing curses who

fashion cruel verses to make me

appear as a soul who is darker than coal.

With a blood metaphor on fake

hands do they smear just to liven

the drama that’s never sincere.

And the seagull is flying and

daring the storm, and she calls

to her watcher, and sends him

a warm wish to never forget

 that the walk from the train, was a

step of real love that never can

drain what the demon creators

will do in their blindness, 

“remember” the gull, says,

“you fed me with kindness.”

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