There is a soul here attached to this body

Along with a heart and mind not too shoddy

Which needs touch just as much as another

For the soul within feeds on the rougher



Edges which do mar the frontal surface

Which covers the door of open space

In which we all do dance with cheer

Even though we are soaked in fear



Never knowing when the next attack

Will come at us - and further pack

Us with fire which does rattle off

Short bursts of energy as we cough



And swallow back big gobs of pride

Which line our hearts and souls inside

And the tenderness we do exhibit

Is hidden by spears which do hit



Us in the middle of our hearts

As we try to clear and restart

The motor which is almost seized

From the lack of oil it so needs



- Tristram