The fire in the eyes,

that’s what she called it,

a friend of long ago

who saw the small boy

defy the argument

and the pre-stated life,

only good enough to take a bullet

for Queen and Country,

she said that assertion was wrong;

the devastating and smouldering

inferno she saw beneath the blue

drops of water told her different;

she said you were an explosion

waiting to happen,

a volcano on the edge of an abyss

on the edge of Time whose wake

would suffocate all.

 

I am no Krakatoa, I am no Vesuvius,

however I will, given the right circumstance,

immortalise you forever,

as you slide in to

a world of choking Pompeii.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016