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I could write a poem of you Mr Selcouth,

A thousand tales pinned to a page,

Lived through many years, reached a ripe old age.

Knowledge and wisdom inside your mind,

Your restraint, being your heart,

Laid bare, ripped apart, shattered inside,

Your defence a heart cold as ice.

A match of banter, mysterious mouth,

Words full of power,

Not a preacher more of a teacher.

Lessons learned from your life’s mistakes,

Left with some visible scars and a hidden, placid kind of dull ache.

I wonder what you can now do with your life?

A life of crime all he’s ever known, although I wouldn’t say he has a deviant soul.

It would take a life time along the same road you’ve come,

to learn all the things which you now know.

Maybe a peaceful retirement is what you shall seek?

eyes wide open to a world not all can see.

N.T.J 10/10/16 ©