A poem I wrote in 1998

I plucked
And head in hands
Sighed

Stem glared empty
Minded of my crime
Rushed inside

And head was placed
Shielded from its
Now forgotten sun

Confined to pages of
History, dry and dead
From head and up

And seagulls shrieked
Their disapproval
Engulfed me with their banshee cry

And plains of empty
Memory sighed
Heaved and rolled and Richter cried

Colour washed from scene
And never viewed again
As life sapped and drained

Gone. So long, so gray
That day, with gay abandon
When that steward strayed