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The morning after the night before
A thought-provoking poem by Maire Rowland.
Article by : SpunOut.ie
The three of us sit world weary,
Gazing upon city streets,
Mourning stolen naivety
Lost amongst cobblestone
Starved without green
Longing for doll houses,
Attempted tree-houses and
Matching tamagotchis.
Still bruised from drunken wounds
And mute after shameful deeds.
We mend each other’s self-inflicted sores
Recalling days of no intentions
Our shoulders’ heavy now,
Laden with an ever-ripening burden.
Crushed beneath shattered illusions,
Un-pursued dreams.
Bitter February opens the curtain
On feigned sincerity
We sit like three and sigh,
Disheartened and world weary…
By: Maire Rowland
