We Are Storm ...

Possessed by his muse
Holding the flitting sea-gull
As an imaginary kite -
But he'd lost it, and his
Muse was full of shite.

"We are storm ..." he justly said;
As life blows us from shore to shore
Sometimes tempestuous and wrecking
Our lives - and other times just
Steering us to where we should be.

Reeking of the whisky
That held his life together;
His veins flowing with dope
That flowed through the all -
He sang like the beguiling sirens call.

"We are storm..." again he sang,
As the winds blow us from coast to coast
Like a tempest wrecks -
Yet here walks a round-jawed shadow of
my old dead friend, who lives 'neath the
stormy seas, with his mates,
Full fathom five.