Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Oct 2020
Brian Turner
Copter blades awaken me
I start the march to the bus stop
The soldiers march to the safety of the barracks gap

Storytellers abound
The craic is good
We knew, he knew, she knows
Did you hear?

Weather draws in
Wet rain again
Patience is tested
Staring out again

Will it clear?
We have some work to do
Bullocks to dose
Lamb to stew
Memories of growing up in Aughnacloy (It means 'Field of stone' in Irish)

— The End —