Lawrie Stuart Ronton


Gold, freezing feeling.
Slight change in the environment,
less space yet less choice,
Maybe the case is noise.

Many a man,
serves right when he can,
This isn't an announcement
To it.

Sitting in his riches,
Staunting the boots,
of ice climbers,
in the race.

Race against time,
Not a slow, motion crime.
The grey rock,
Can only glance back.

He's gone and lost his boy,
called Jack.

Poem Submitted: Saturday, November 3, 2007
Poem Edited: Friday, April 22, 2011

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