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Travels In Technicolor

His mind filled with his fathers’ stories of monsters in the wood

The wilful child started out to see if these tales were good
Just six summers old and youthful bold he left one early morn

His eyes drinking in the light of his first solitary dawn’



The decision was made when he was ten that he had to try again

So he packed his bag and started out into the world of men

He didn’t make it very far but his travelling heart was stirred

When his ears picked up the sweet notes sung by the morning bird



Straining to stay among the people he had to grow up with

He planned and plotted his escape; his resolve would never give

As soon as he was old enough, his feet began to stir

And his little legs took him off to see what would occur.



The first time he put his thumb out it trembled with trepidation

And south was the direction in which lay his destination

Through new exciting territories he tripped his way along

Thinking up the lyrics to his humble hobo song



Arriving in the crowded capital he learned so very soon

That you’ll never make it very far just wishing on the moon

Bread doesn’t come so easily when there are many mouths to feed

And in the city philosophy he learned about mans greed



So our hero struck out westwards and headed for the wild sea

Whilst listening and watching, he learned about our history

He mingled with the poor and wretched, and heard their tales of woe

Always sharing what he had spare, as he wandered to and fro



Sitting in the wilderness of deserted coastal lands

He stayed a while just watching the changing of the sands

Pondering on his future and what he’d leave behind

The meaning of the meaningless he struggled hard to find



Following along the footpaths, laid down by ancient man

Slowly forming in his mind there was a most amazing plan

And as he passed through others lives he tried to leave them blessed

For if he touched just one lost soul he knew he’d done his best



Sat sheltering in crumbling churchyards he observed and he absorbed

And studied the sacred teachings of him whom they call Lord

Finally it occurred to him that he himself could teach

But the only thing he thought we’d need was for us to be taught peace



When the beaches began to northward turn, well friends then so did he

And found himself on cliff top paths of Arthurian mystery

The legends and the myths passed down from many years ago

Helped romanticise his eager mind and his imaginings to grow



It was fate and the weather that finally turned him, hurriedly inland

It surely wasn’t what our humble hero had got planned

But lifts he got from spot to spot they dropped him by the Tor

And things he saw on pagan sights opened up a whole new door



His spiritual heart awakened he turned back towards the coast

As summer was approaching and it was the place he loved the most

While doing the necessary slave work to put money in his glove

He found the most amazing girl, it turned out was his true love



She was his kindred spirit; she was his missing rib

She was the ink that formed the words flowing from his nib

He took her for a walk with him, a walk without an end

And from place to place they freely roamed, with nature tried to blend



So now together, joined forever, as all good hearts should be

They travel the land in silent search of all that they can see

As long as they have each other through all lifes twists and bends

It doesn’t matter to either one where the story ends
Graham Eccles
Thursday, February 3, 2011
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