Rain dripped through the hole in the roof.
No need to ask for the proof
that the heavens had forsaken him now.
The bag tight round his neck
unzipped the door just to check
nothing yet had been washed away.
It would not be a good day
he knew that now.
Decision to make
stay or plough
On.
Through the treacherous weather.
Past the boulders and heather.
Upwards and on.
It could all be a con.
A trick he played on himself.
Clutched the bag tight.
Tried with all his might.
To do what was right.
And hope for the bright white light
of morning.
thejrpc 