It's just a way of life said the man with the gun, you win it or you lose it and when all is said and done. But the odds and the favour can be tipped from over here by a warm winning smile from a boy with no fear. They say that respect is a game hard won but they can't see the smile down the barrel of the gun. The feather on the trigger tipping fate on its edge, no begging or beseeching can reverse a given pledge. The days turn to night and the winter beckons, the clock upon the wall ticking out the short seconds of a love hard won on a tall family tree. Hear the click of the pin as the feather flies free! At the moment of truth we find the missing piece, the puzzle of a life destroying desolate peace. We live our short lives along the barrel of a gun, from the dawning of time beneath the rising sun. And the bullets let fly dealing death all around, a hail of thundering steel as they tear into the ground. And the steel from the sky becomes the sand in your face. The tears on your cheeks washing windows of fate. * Written by Darren Scanlon, January 2014. Revised by Darren Scanlon, 9th May 2015. ©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.