Where have you been young man?
What adventures have you experienced?
And what have you seen?
I sense that you’ve been over the edge
Fallen off the jagged cliff of sanity,
I can tell by your fixed smile,
Your trembling hands,
As you embroider while you wait,
Muttering under your breath,
Curses and profanities,
Where to now young man?
Where will you go?
Each day you return
To sit and patiently sew,
Your mind vacantly travelling,
The tangled threads
Of your short life,
Once tightly wound, unravelling.
Diane Scantlebury
