If truth be told

I read about your fall

from grace,

in the morning paper.

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


 

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