Deep in my soul, where daemons prowl and crawl, Fainting throb, a sunlight’s fallen thrall. A smithered lad, who once so proudly stood, Over his head, a sturdy, blackened hood. Deep in my soul, few tonnes of ageing haul, And specimens, of bitter, younger molls. Somewhere above, a bluer, lighter good, Floating among them ‘would’ and ‘maybe’ and ‘could’. A nightingale song, deep in my … Continue reading Regret