The Seagull And I
But interrogative is your beak for bread.
You forget that through this strath,
My feet have worn two hours worth of tread.
We have purpose, you and I.
Both hungry for a ticket to survive.
Yours; a needy innate cry.
Mine; freedom, peace, a life for which I strive.
Do you feel life's stress and strain,
Whilst floating on your vital route?
Or is your solitary aim
To pull my peace like Narcissus's fruit?
Here, have my bread and leave me.
Leave me to the reason I exhaled my breath.
Do you have a mind to gie
Some hush as I have paused your road to death?