My Own Kind
When I saw your body cold
I was cold with you.
When you left
I sought my own kind
and found none
because you were my kind.
Taking your heart
I searched the blind
tramping crowds
for a single soul like you.
I searched those
that called me brother,
I searched coffee shops
and pubs and churches
but there were none like you
and you were my kind.
When your chair was empty
it remained so
and no-one sat in it,
when your bed was cold
I didn’t pack it up
or sleep in it,
it wasn’t the same
without you.
When you left
and I went cold
I sought my own kind
and found none,
I’m searching still
because you are my kind.
Peter Cartwright
August 2016
