Jeremiah
written by: Eoghan Lyng
@eoghanlyng
Did he come back today?
It’s been two years apart,
And there’s an art museum opened.
I have hope today.
Is there any news?
He looked quite well,
A servitude with the local press
And six guineas to save for mum.
Did he ask of me,
Those dewy eyes, I sighed,
Whenever he told a joke,
Older than our dad’s of dad.
Is there any hope?
The rectitude of hopeless solitude-
Screaming his name might help me,
But it won’t help him.
There was no luck today,
The shillings we left on his bed,
We said we’d be here for him.
We are.
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