A Silent Memory

31 2 3

by Neal08

by Neal08

Words and words of hollow promise,
A smile that quietly stared,
A ringing bell, a broken cup,
A half eaten slice of bread.

His forgotten face with misty eyes,
His Sinatra duet with mum,
Christmas eve at a football game,
"Come on Reds, here we come."

But I clearly remember his mistress's face,
Patronised pity it held,
Box of chocolates, cartons of toys,
I still recall how she smelled.

Her drinking started the day he left us,
Bottles of wine and rum,
One day I come home to find her lying,
'Please, please wake up, dear mum.'

He did attend the funeral, though,
Him, his wife, his precious Claire,
Called me his "Son", held me tight,
Told me how much they cared.

Now that I look back, years later,
I don't know who was right,
I just remember her tear filled pleadings,
And hear her screaming through the night.