1277

What do you want to be, they always ask

As if I should know, now I was five,

Off to school, childhood in the past.

What do you want to be?

The trouble was I never did decide,

Doing what came along, tied to a mast

Of amiable pleasantries which hide

A hope that sometime within all the vast

Silent span, I'll hear your voice rise

Siren-like, to fire my soul at last.

What do you want to be?

Brian Hick May 2013

©copyright Sally Hick 26.5.13