For Paul

For Paul I heard the siren loud and shrill And down my back there cruised a chill A gas explosion, down the mine Had blocked the shaft at number nine. Twelve miners trapped beneath the ground But one was dead when they were found My brother Paul, of sixteen years My mother’s face awash with tears. Just like a babe she bathed her son Her little boy whose life was gone My chest so tight...my throat so dry A pain so deep I could not cry Years pass,but still there are times just before sleep When I remember...and weep. An original poem on the theme of --- Funeral/ Death Margaret Foster Part truth / part fiction. 22/5/10