He lives in the tropics
He lives in the tropics
Wasn’t always so
Now far from troubled life
Of so long ago.
Loves balmy nights
Under swaying palm trees
Smell of salt air
Cooling gentle breeze.
Remembers the darkness
Life, on the end of a syringe
Waking in a lane way’s gutter
Dying from a heroin binge.
Plays guitar to the tourists
Smiling, dropping coins to his case
Chats to the locals
Tells, how he loves this place.
Solemn minister reads last rights
He views his body from above
An angel gives him hope
Return and spread his love.
Zephyrs swirl the night air
He continues singing songs
On this lovely tropical evening
Now he kicks off his thongs.
Released from rehabilitation
Remembers that promise he’ll keep
Away from gutters of death
Where demons taunt and creep.
He lives in the tropics
Wasn’t always so
A heart full of love
He shares with all as they go.
David J Delaney
19/11/2008 ©
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hugs
Katy
Christine
Be always safe,
Karen
You capture the sense of renewal and the moment of redemption in this strong yet gentle piece. Fine work.
John
fee
A truly exquisite piece from a modern day master of his craft--absolutely sensational!
Stuart