Treasure Island

David Lewis Paget

(22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

Never The God...

Your eyes bright, eager and trusting,
Where do we go from here, my son,
I spent my essence, loving and lusting,
Chasing a paper god, my son.

I turned my sword to a feathered quill,
Ensnared your mother’s heart, my son,
She loved the god in the paper spill
But never the god in your father, son.

We came together when life was full
And loved at the morning light, my son,
‘Til she grew heavy and I grew dull
While you just quickened and grew, my son.

Then you burst out like a single star
That beamed from our both horizons, son
We loved you more than the what-we-were
Than ever we loved each other, son.

So she grew bitter and sharp of tongue
And I went back to the pen, my son,
But all the words that I’d ever sung
Unravelled in desolation, son.

And when she left, she took you too,
The light in my life went out, my son,
I would she’d loved me as I loved you
But love is a laceration, son.

Now you have grown, the world’s ahead,
Your eyes are eager and bright, my son;
Don’t spend your essence on paper gods
Or trust in a woman’s love, my son.

For dreams and all ambitions fade
When a woman leaves in a storm, my son,
Remember the price that your father paid;
Love sought and lost in a rhyme, my son.

13 September 1991

Submitted: Sunday, September 18, 2005
Edited: Monday, November 03, 2008

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