My bad behaviour always made your day
traumatic, darkening to a quagmire grey,
it sank nights into you, though I forgot
my own and yours too, till put on the spot.
I thought the sky was blue till you'd phone up
from work, full of sad angst, and ratty,
while looking after Joe, I felt fed up,
and your bringing me down, made me catty.
You always juggled for more dignity
till dignity was worth much more than me.
YOU ARE READING
Gifts and Shards Vol 2
PoetryThis is the second and final volume of 'Gifts and Shards'. This takes us from the second month to now well over three years later, though there were many C poems in the collections tracking the seasons. There are no similar stories!
