I read about your fall from grace, in
the morning papers.
Buttered toast melted my shaking
hands,
black coffee drenched half-made
plans.
You were the one, who cast doubt
that the truth would come out.
Your pain was a shallow act,
to hide the fact,
your heart was intact,
whilst mine beats like a broken drum
for a murdered son.
➽Seán Maguire has been writing poetry, song lyrics, short stories and non-fiction for over thirty years and has had a considerable amount of his work published in magazines, newspapers, anthologies and online blogs. The above poem is taken from his collection For Those Left Behind.
No comments