Missing Trophy Poem by Jason Jackson

A passionate kiss is the missing trophy,
a heart-warming hug is still devoid of heat,
we speak, we live, we exist and exhale
we die, sometimes alone, beyond the pale

We dramatise, we execute and keep our own council,
your valentines poems will soon come to light,
we probe, we question, but to what point,
our bodies will keep life in it's 3 cornered hat

At a point, in the early hours of morning,
my patience at it's lowest ebb,
my fun will disappear forever
I have but 3 minutes left to live, to call 911 or boil me an egg..