BOY ON A TRICYCLE*
11/6/04
(A boyhood memory)
He used to whisper
And sing to him self,
Lived in a world
Of his own creation
So no-one or nothing
Could touch him
This small thin and hungry
Boy-on-a-tricycle.
He lived in the
Herne Bay sun
Keeping to himself
And by himself,
An invisible wall
Worn as a cloak
Around his loneliness
And pain.
If approached
He would look
Only at your chest
Avoiding the eye to eye;
It broke my heart
To see him cowering
At the shadows,
His arms lifted
As if to fend off
A blow: real or imaginary.
Only for one sun-licked summer
Before he was carted off,
Separated from the cruelty
He suffered as the blows
Rained down on his quiet
Tear stained, head
As his parents parted!
After all, they were
The only people
He had got left,
The only people he could love,
Except his dreamt-up world…
And his little tricycle.
*First published in BLACK SHEEP magazine.
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