Review

I looked back on my life from the clouds
Wondering where it began
Was it in the eyes of my father
Coming home from the war
Or my mother’s petulant murmurings
One more makes four
One more makes four
Born of the shrapnel and radar and blood
Born of the soft, sad lament
Born at a time when the world was at rest
Gearing up for its next bloodbath
I was bathed in the milk of a vagabond sheep
I was lost in the continents’ drift
I sleep now in silence as these clouds turn to rain
Sweat of the years bound to fall