Eating toast in bed.
The tasty crumbs never leaving my lips.
Savoring the buttery taste.
After breakfast I went to stand outside,
in the morning heat.
So strange.

A light rap on the door.
My mother goes to answer it,
Oblivious to the strangers news.
The young ones are in the front room.
Their clucking kept me up.
She came back crying.
My father had fallen.

GRAHAM MURPHY