Miller’s Problem, Not Mine

Push against the wind,

The wild flowers,

The rains,

The sea, the sun,

And all those who get in the way

Stare down the barrel of a gun,

And smile wide,

Just like you would do for the camera

This is all that’s left, my friend

The good times,

Jumped ship,

And I’m thinking,

You should, too

But make sure to go out with a bang

Make sure they remember you

Who cares if they ever knew your name

But make sure your face,

Is forever seared onto their brains

Stick to it,

Like dog shit to a shoe

Make it good,

Make it count

Then go and count your blessing,

Lick your wounds,

And cry to all the nameless faces,

You stored away,

And hoped would stay locked up,

For all of time,

For good.

© Dicky J Loweman 2015