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[Keith]

Edit 2

I was pressing your parachute
with a travel iron
when the wind took you,
scattering a trail of childhood
clothes and books, carpet sweets stuck.
A broken plastic toy collection.

All now imprints on your bedroom floor.
But what for?
a debt the size of my first house?
Your prize a zero hour contract,
three years to scratch your own beard.

I wonder will your canopy ever fill
enough so you can see
through that fringe flicked pout,
to a landing spot?
Maybe a tower block tree,
a pupa cocooned, changing inside,
to whatever it want’s to be,
you've always had the key.

Edit 1 Tiger Lion

I was pressing your parachute
with a travel iron,
when the wind took you,
scattering a trail of books,
pizza boxes and the contents
of a bedroom floor, but what for?
a debt the size of my first house.
Your prize a zero hour contract
and three years to grow a beard.

I wonder will your canopy ever fill
enough so you can see
through the fringe flicked pout
to a landing spot,
maybe a tower block tree,
a pupa cocooned, changing inside,
to whatever it want's to be.
You still have the key.

Original
I was pressing your parachute
with a travel iron,
when the wind took you,
scattering a trail of books,
pizza and a bedroom floor,
but what for?
a debt the size of my first house?
Your prize a zero hour contract,
three years in a world of warcraft.

I wonder will your canopy ever fill
enough so you can see
through the fringe of black dye.
A landing spot,
maybe a tree,
a pupa cocooned, changing inside,
to whatever you want to be.
You still have your key.