thinking about it now in the solitude
of this poorly lit station i could never
have done it, to enter the lions den
with nothing but a controlled calm.
with a hand on the wall where your youngest
would close her eyes and fall giggling
into your arms you peered into the present
and saw nothing of your past.
the piano which you played
on your first date when she first heard
the appealing fragiltiy of your mind now gone,
replaced with a computer
which stared back with cold knowing.
The Scream had been silenced,
ripped from the wall, covered and
packed off to the big yellow box that
stands on the side of the moterway.
she'd always hated that picture said
it reminded her of the fragility inside you.
The curtains twitched on the other side
of the street, the shadow waiting for
the showdown, turning you raised your hand
and waved with the will of a winner.
Snapping a rotting flower from your once
front garden dropping it into the drain
you looked down upon the beaten lion
and smiled a sympathetic smile.
Not Long Left
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/into-the-lions-den/
