Saturday, July 1, 2023

December Wind

 By John McGrath

(Sonnet For Linda)

Her home a run-down rig of chrome and tin,
A piebald pony, horse-box, Hiace van
Long-acre grazing and a long, hard road
From home to school, her books a heavy load.
She wears a Penney’s tracksuit, pink and loud,
Brooks neither help nor insult, strong and proud
She stands in bristled anger with no tears,
Fire in her eyes and claws to hide her fears.
A curse, a prayer, from her they seem the same,
Her gentle spirit smothered, as a flame
Fanned by a mocking, dark, December wind
Flickers and dies. She wraps her young girl’s mind
In shell as hard as roads that lie ahead
And cold as winter in a wayside shed.

©2005 John McGrath


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


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