Architects Poem by Paul Reed

Architects are a funny breed
Drawing this and that
They have families to feed
Under their funny hat;

I listed to the 'Dark Side Of The Moon'
When teenage dreams I wished upon
In a dark room, my life in ruin
But my crazy thoughts have come and gone;

Architects were dreaming space and form
Sky-scraping, high-rise and volume
Their creativity kept them warm
By threads that otherwise would consume;

I just dreamt of finding myself
Lost within my layers of grief
To live life on a safe shelf
To be a falling leaf;

Architects had a purpose, a vocation
A means of going on, a career
I was lost in desolation
In my eye a permanent tear;

I don't blame them for being clever
And having their map all plotted
For me it was now or never
With my own misery besotted;

I climbed out of that hole
I managed to find a way through
Now I live at the North Pole
But you know that that's not true.