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
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