there, in the front pew
dressed in his Sunday suit
grieving his grandmother
wearing her silver cross
shaking, wrecked by it all
and I think, poor little bastard
as I watch him drowning
rivers of tears
rivers and rivers
becoming a flood
Poetry, writing, life
there, in the front pew
dressed in his Sunday suit
grieving his grandmother
wearing her silver cross
shaking, wrecked by it all
and I think, poor little bastard
as I watch him drowning
rivers of tears
rivers and rivers
becoming a flood
Poet, writer, artist. Writing and performing in England, publishing anywhere. Member of Hexameter performing poets. Workshops, projects, cross-arts collaborations. View more posts