North Korea

A poem by Dave Scott-Morgan

I am a peasant in North Korea
and sometimes at night when the sky is clear
I look up from my door in wonder and fear
For although it is Kim I do revere
and in Kim I do hope and to Kim I am swayed
and for Kim I do work and with his currency am paid
But Oh those stars that somebody else has made!
I must be a traitor for them I do praise,
… I must admit to my wicked ways
For each time I get to partake this treat
it’s as if the sky itself begins to speak
it whispers and calls, it shouts, it screams,
And I just stand listening
and drinking the stream
On a night such as this in North Korea
something inside just changes gear
and I begin spinning out over these huts
and travelling to places no man can touch
I must not say more for in Kim I do trust
and for Kim I do bow and to Kim I revere
For I am what I am inside this sphere
I am a peasant in North Korea

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King Air

Why this pic of a Beech King Air? Well it isn’t my aeroplane, but it is, if you know what I mean!