All the Lost Things

Eamon Friel Cop. Con.

All the lost things are forsaken
All the lost things overtaken
All the lost things disconnected
One by one by one

There’s a tattered leather jacket
Once it must have cost a packet
Tangled in a treetop leave it there
Leave it for the winter wind to wear

And the wedding ring that’s fallen
Underneath the blue tarpaulin
Where the boards are busted rolling slow
Finds another empty place below

By the wall behind the station
There’s a final destination

Hunkered with a bottle on the ground
Here is where the lost sheep can be found

And these medals tell a story
Of forgotten fields of glory
Treasured still when he was old and frail
Here they are they’re in a jumble sale

Sunken in the sand around you
Little plastic boat I’ve found you
You’re about as washed up as can be
I will set you sailing on the sea