Catherine

You're all miserable skivers, she leans back and sighs, we thank the great divine, for all the blessings he bestows, whirr of the morphine driver, like a canary in the glow, singing in the yellow light, she says I've had my time, the manner of her being’s slight, a quiet celebration alone, as kids we could only try, the Orphanage didn't do love, moving with the tide, a candle on its own, her eyes blaze for Ireland, we blow our noses, when she passes by, as a Schooner rolls and groans, marking days that never die.