The pier is a seam of rotting teeth <br />Bearing a queue of perishable cargoes <br /> <br />I am waiting for Mr Charon <br />Already he's ferried many dear ones away <br /> <br />All night I dream that a tinchel of pitchblack rats <br />Plague ridden, close around me <br />Their needy bites are nibbling at my days <br /> <br />I eavesdrop on the conversations of ghosts <br />Mumble to no-one in ear shot, echoes of my journey <br /> <br />I have known the slough of despond <br />The weight of guilt and regret <br /> <br />For a while I stayed in the house of the interpreter <br />Rested in house beautiful, all too briefly <br /> <br />Oftener than I'd have wished, <br />I've squirmed in the vale of humiliation <br /> <br />Vanity Fair lost its savour long ago <br />Though by-path meadow's often led me astray <br />Into the home of despair, that doubting castle <br /> <br />All the King's Horses and all the King's men <br />Won't put my past in good order again <br /> <br />Mr Charon, you're the ferryman to silence <br />Where all the birthday candles are blown out<br /><br />sheena blackhall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/waiting-for-mr-charon/
