Come My Hour

Memoirs sat upon a dusting shelf

The writer's now moved on and this is his legacy

Draws me in, against my instinct

I take down this dusting book and so begin to read...

Born into regret of a mother

and father taught him lessons that began with fist

This slip of a kid could walk

egg shells and slept with one eye

open thinking Jesus missed

These never ending days can drain the life away

But come his hour he will be dancing

on the coals of despise

And growing pains eased as father weakened

The abuse became now verbal

and the hurt was raw

He ran at fifteen

alone with rucksack

sat in doorways watching life pass

thinking "what's this for?"

And into his life she came creeping

gave him feelings never felt before and held him tight

They grew with their love

now isolation's dead

He's conquered all his hate and this he had to write

'These never ending days can drain my life away

but come my hour I will be dancing

on the coals of despise.'

He wrote and carried close these feelings on a note

"Now life's for living and I'm looking to the future"

he cries.