Written for Paul Brookes' ekphrastic challenge - one poem a day in April 2021.
Strange
It's strange
to know that you're not there
at the end of the line
with comforting words
and questions about the children.
I wish that I were eight again,
looking round and thinking
you had gone, then a wave
of relief as you re-appeared.
There's no magic number
of seconds that can tick over,
after which it won't matter any more.
No soothing words of comfort
when you don't believe in afterlife.
It makes you envy those who do.
Now that is strange.
Tim Fellows 2021
I really like this one Tim. A distilled essence
ReplyDeleteLike Tigger, I too like this poem. Perhaps instead of "like" I should say "appreciate". I find this a slightly uncomfortable read, since death is an uncomfortable subject for one who tries to avoid thinking about it too deeply.
ReplyDeleteThanks for this poem.
Thanks - I found it uncomfortable to write.
Delete