Voices


 

London Graveyard

 

She’s not convinced the day is right, it seems too much like yesterday.

The suns the same-the room’s the same-but the echo of the kids seems astray.

She tries to move slowly and truly see what is wrong.

She listens closely to every sound and waits to hear a children’s song.

But the void is real, and it seems, that the children she misses have gone away.

 

She wakes again-yet another day- and the voices again are not around.

The room she is in is small and grey. A tiny prison she is bound.

The memories come slowly now. A terrible thing has passed.

It’s hazy now, these memories, as if in the distant past.

But she moves throughout her day, trying to keep herself aground.

 

People come and people go, she barely notices them any more.

Some give her meds, and some just talk, and she finds it such a chore,

To concentrate on who is there, when her mind is somewhere else.

She can hear them now, the children come, but only to herself.

As time passes the visitors wane, she finds them easy to ignore.

 

Twenty years have come and twenty have gone since that horrible day.

When bad things happened to her children that took them both away.

She sits in her rocker now, and reaches out to passerby.

When old eyes meet she quietly asks the person, “Why?”

Forty years ago was when her children last left to play.

 

The police searched and hunted on, no suspects did appear.

No answers gleaned from years of search, motives were unclear.

The children seemed to disappear from the playground unseen.

A few leads, some questions asked, but the act it was obscene.

Two children gone from the park, never to reappear.

 

When by chance a clue alights and points to a person of interest.

A lady not addressed at first, talks of a man she witnessed.

He walked into the park and led the kids away hand-in-hand.

It seemed so innocent, a father taking his kids for a ride in his van.

But later she finds the story is wrong, and in the police she confides.

 

The man, it seems, is not the father at all, but a man from up the street.

The kids were duped, lied to, and walked away not knowing deceit.

The acts were unspeakable. The children held on as best as they could.

The man, when finished with them, buried them in the wood.

Now forty years and the man has passed, and to the women the police go to meet.

 

The day is new and the room is the same, the ward itself never changes.

Its comfortable for the patients you see, and helps promote exchanges.

They tried to explain, to tell her the truth. But she didn’t seem to hear.

That the puzzle was solved and the bodies were found. She didn’t shed a tear.

For it seems that in her mind the children have been with her all this time as angels.

 

She is gone now, laid next to them. Forever will they be together.

They play again, in the park, and all they will have is pleasure.

For all the time that passed on earth is now but a wink.

And all they time that they have before them now seems to interlink,

With eternity now stretched before them, now that they are all together.

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Published by

espyworks

I will be working on a theme for this as I go along. But there is a strong possibility that this will have no direct stream, and just ramble aimlessly. And thats fun too!

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