You lie peacefully now, <br />Ravaged by the growth within - <br />I saw the Grim Reaper harvest you by stealth, <br />Whilst Bacchus rested. <br />Your Raglan Road woman <br />Weeps copiously downstairs - <br />Your wife fears to enter. <br />Gallons of tea are swallowed <br />In teetotal rooms. <br />Horrible, Italianate sympathy cards <br />Disturb my prayer over you. <br />I kiss your sweaty forehead, <br />Embarrassingly recoil <br />As I realise the wet is Holy Water. <br />I pee in your toilet, <br />Scan your bathroom shelves <br />Where your throw away razor lies <br />Full of your bristles <br />Whilst you've become disposable. <br />Back in your room <br />Your banjoless fingers sit <br />Entwined in green Rosary beads <br />Never worn in life. <br />There was a time I wouldn't have come, <br />Now, I'm glad to be here. <br />The flickering candle breathes, <br />I breathe - you breathe elsewhere. <br />No stage here, <br />No pub fuelled chatter, <br />No bullets to bowl, <br />No close harmonies, <br />No mother to avoid, <br />No new dawning of your day.<br /><br />Joe Hughes visit joehughes.org.uk<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wake-3/
