Through Mud and Slime

Through mud and slime, thick and wet, I tread, I wince and gasp as wind blows sharp and cold; My feet now drag and slip through leaves so dead, So stark and bleak my life - no joy behold! Above I see the moon – ‘tis ghostly pale, So grim my life will be, it doth foretell; Down I peer and by my feet – so frail My face I see now gazing up from hell. In muddy pools, so full of sludge, so chill, My face reflected high against the sky; Then up I look - loud screams I hear - how shrill! Above me now a screeching owl so high. I flinch - a sudden shock – an omen dire? ‘Tis my mind I know – I’m troubled and stunned; Confused, distraught and in an anguished mire, As all alone I am and feel so shunned. I stumble through the mire – so cold and wet, No friends have I and homeless now; My life’s surreal - with pain and grief beset, A fate grotesque, so cruel - I do avow. So weak I feel, no further can I crawl, I slip and slump upon the mud so cold; “Is this to be?” I cry “what e’er befall?” So harsh! “What more?” I scream! Oh horrors untold! My eyes I close - nothing more I feel….. Report in today’s issue of Hull Recorder: Bertie Tootrue Binge, for that’s his name, Was found this morning in woods at Skerne; Taken to Infirmary - just a trifle lame, Recovering well - confirms no more concern.