He sits there on the underground train
Unwittingly turning the knife in my broken heart
My pretence that the wounds ever healed
Now laid bare as a worthless fallacy
Hair, eyes, nose, mouth, all eloquently speaking
Goading me with the memories of loss, of grief
He looks my way, but could never comprehend the pain
As I gaze at the one with the face of the boy I love
****
Love & best wishes to all (and especially to DBJ)
Sammy B
No comments:
Post a Comment