heriot

I left my soul in the garden bed

tilled and planted and left for dead

among the mulch and the weeds

buried as deep as fresh sown seeds

I left it to the wind and the rain

beside the rubbish and the drain

to be baked by sun, and forgot by man

I left my soul for a farmer’s tan

I left my soul in my armchair

stuffed ‘n fluffed ‘n without a care

among the trailmix and the dirt

crushed, bent, with no effort

I left it to the shadows and the dust

beside the candy and growing rust

to be forgotten and drain to dry

I left my soul with a silent sigh

I left my soul and walked away

I may come back some fine day