Quicksilver

When thinking of me
Remember this

Colourful words once
tinted my speech

I had a childhood,
now forgotten

Responsible work, hobbies,
a strong sense of right & wrong.

Dreams, some realised, some
of which I never spoke,

Nor will I ever.

My hands, my mind,
fine cutting tools.

My tongue too.

I was not always good,
or bad. Always myself,

And ever shall be.

Though I sometimes appear
beyond reach.

Like liquid,
like smoke,
like quicksilver.

Summer 2003 - John Dando House