Town Bred.

I was raised in a town
where all the noses were the same,

had the same rounded tip,

the same comfortable squat

on very different faces.

Town bred,

country reared,

I wandered the early autumn

evening shadow in the company

and comfort of fallen leaves,

always acutely aware

of my worm fodder future.

When my tongue tied teenage years 

robbed me of innocent chatter,

I was gifted instead

with a river washed, gravel of words,

monkey gifted ideas,

and a witch's brew of confidence

and self doubt.

This, to my great surprise,
eventually led me to the discovery,
that my nose had the very same rounded tip, 
as all the others in Town.

© niall oconnor 2015