A cold goal

Outside of the safety of the weekend’s guilt.

Sits an uncomfortable follow on thought of excess.

Held fast by id and a sense of knowing no is yes.

Some times as close as a turn of a page.

Stopped from turning by the knowing decision of age.

If Scott had put one ton camp where it was supposed to be.

A few more life saving miles south you see.

Had he taken as was always planned four to the pole.

Kept scientific endeavour as his ultimate goal.

Chipping away at a frozen sleeping bag, as he searched into his ill fated soul.

Was not part of the frozen prize he realised.

As everyone cried

For all who died.


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