in thought

deepest thought

many crests arise from former waves

time stands still in the crimson courtroom




playing tennis under Autumn’s strongest sun

living in the car then travelling far

far far away from the ever placid Down shore

of a dreary ould Donaghadee


those grey, grooved paving stones still speak of

your heroic exploits

on other continents


proud, if only they knew, of your soldiering about

firing upon nameless enemies, glancing with disgust at the

biggest foe … the boldest soul, embracing youth’s inherent bravado

blasting through the culture of another with

hands like knotted rope, well salted from over the side

of the Brothers

all gone now


still within the dream

still raging amongst the gorse and the gristle of

a potent historically laden landscape

now re-enchanted

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