I would watch each coat of religion
huddle under the neon bingo sign
Their blue rinse dripping
upon the open page of psalm 23
Each was widowed
leant upon by the weight of death
This I surmised
was why they wore the warming jacket
I was sceptical
and viewed their need for insulation
As a human condition
a blanket I saw as blind
As my ageing immortality
greets my face every morning
The mirror helps me decipher
the text of King David
I begin to explore the fragile pages
of a text arranged long ago
Not fully convinced
yet a folded page of interest, awaits my return
© Copyright 2016 Philip H20s. All rights reserved.
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