The water seemed inviting,
Dave standing over it,
Five stones lighter,
Head swimming with suicidal ideation.
I shouted through the letterbox;
Stentorian, loud Paisley vows,
Echoing concern and tired of the rigmarole,
Dave was ready for capitulating;
I was ripe for flying into the crisis,
Though now I wonder why.
The scream remains silent;
Failing to channel old Roger.