By Jennifer Christie Temple
He wore life like an overcoat
plucked from a peg by the door of a pub.
He always knew it wasn’t his,
the texture of it chaffed his mind.
But he clung to it and pulled it close
and moulded himself to fit.
He knew, and I knew, it wasn’t his coat.
We never spoke of it.
It was all he had.
About the author:
Jennifer Christie Temple grew up in rural Hertfordshire in the 1950’s. The daughter of a traditional woodcutter and forester, her childhood days were spent in woodlands, meadows and country lanes and she learned to love and respect nature and all life. She is a beloved mentor on WF and this poem is from the first of her two published collections titled Magic Of Life, which is available on Smashwords