THE FEATHER ON THE TRIGGER
It's just a way of life
said the man with the gun,
you win it or you lose it
and when all is said and done.
But the odds and the favour
can be tipped from over here
by a warm winning smile
from a boy with no fear.
They say that respect
is a game hard won
but they can't see the smile
down the barrel of the gun.
The feather on the trigger
tipping fate on its edge,
no begging or beseeching
can reverse a given pledge.
The days turn into nights
and the winter beckons,
the clock upon the wall
ticking out the short seconds.
Of a love hard won
on a tall family tree,
hear the click of the pin
as the feather flies free!
At the moment of truth
we find the missing piece,
the puzzle of a life
destroying desolate peace.
We live our short lives
along the barrel of a gun,
from the dawning of time
beneath the rising sun.
And the bullets let fly
dealing death all around,
a hail of thundering steel
as they tear into the ground.
And the steel from the sky
becomes the sand in your face
as the tears on your cheeks
wash the windows of fate.
Written by Darren Scanlon, January 2014.
Revised 9th May 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
