We all get a little down sometimes! A poem to read down the phone to the samaritans in the wee smalll hours and dedicated to those amazing people who work for them.

TONIGHT MY HEAVING HEART

Tonight my heaving heart has laid me low

and shudders in the holes of its dark cave.

The fractured rhythm of some loathsome row

beats out the brutal measure of my days,

rasps against the roof and dripping walls

and builds into a tune that mocks and crows:

A dirge, lament or elegy that drifts and calls

over the dead white fields where nothing grows.

A Glasgow child stands on a slivered rock

and in his eyes there is no trace of fear

as Chaos lumbers down the steely Clyde;

a hairy beast wrapped in a kilted frock;

to lie in wait for forty frozen years.