Home

Market Bosworth

by Richard Vince

Someday, perhaps I will walk
Those ancient streets at last,
And see the nest from which
You’ll have flown by now.

Would you see in me the ghost
Of a face you once saw
Rendered in imperfect pixels?
Or were you never told
Of the unlikely stepfather
You almost had?

All these years, something has
Stopped me from making
The meandering journey to
A name I always knew
Without knowing why.

Which of the three of us
Did your mother protect
With unsettling reluctance
After gushing enthusiasm?

Perhaps the spell she cast
Lingers still over the rooftops
So I cannot land my tired feet
Where yours once trod.

Or maybe I fear finding
That you and she were real
After all, and so I protect
Myself from finding yet more
Recipients of the pain I once
So freely gave.

10/17/2020

Posted on 11/03/2020
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince

Return to the Previous Page
 

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)