A Less Than Promising Fate Poem by Mark Heathcote

Let's go to the top of the mountain
let's leap off into those distant clouds
let mum and dad and all the townsmen,
come and search the hilltops and hedgerows.

Let us explore and leave our breadcrumbs
like Hansel and Gretel outwitting-
a witch let us leave our city slums
with willow sticks, string, let's go fishing.

And find a vase full of precious stones
enough treasure gems to live our dreams.
Let us leave these grey old cobblestones;
our parents: our teacher's cruel regimes.

Let us go now and fulfill our destiny
or forever be lambs at the gate
that never swings open heavenly,
head home to a less than promising fate.