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 ©