Pansy Boy

                         PANSY BOY

There he was,

Out,

Out on his own

Out in the cold because he was different.

You couldn't miss him, even with his head down

All colour and beauty

They called him, “Pansy”, they were right,

But not for any reason they knew.

All his life had been a winter of cruelty

He sighed and cried prayed and

Stayed right through the coldest times

And he blossomed

Pansy: beautiful tough.

     

                             Wilf July 2018