Good Dies and Bad Belongs
Walking home I kick the stones. I kick the dirt as well.
Today a life changed but not for me, for someone, someone else.
I see the birds fly into the tree, I listen to their songs. I see the children play in the street and pray that they all one day find true love.
The world plays out on my tv and I think that I know. I chose a path where instantly good dies and bad belongs.
I walk up the garden path at this my childhood home.
My mother sees red stains on my jacket sleeves and asks what have I become?
I sit on the old settee and she turns the tv on.
A sound of sirens moves closer to me and she stares in silence and concern.
I smile, I drink the tea as shadows fill the door.
I turn and ask one question before my life changes so drastically:
‘When’s the weather on?’
Copyright © A Yorkshire Poet | Year Posted 2021
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