Poetry

“The Count”

By 7th August 2013December 9th, 2019No Comments

How drained am I, as sunrise sheds its light
Upon reflection (Mine, not his) now shown
Such wan complexion paints a dreadful sight
As daybreak fills the room, he now hath flown
An armful was the quota so required
A sample more than ample for his needs
Twas found on lower ground, pronounced ‘expired’
If proved as truth, of course then mine heart bleeds
Yet garlic still adorns my bedside space
Should moon be full; attracting all who crave
When need for ‘top up’ brings us ‘face to face’
Wouldst Crucifix alone, save one from grave
As platelets serve up dish ‘for which to die’
My haemoglobin ‘Count’ doth kiss goodbye

Richard Gildea

Author Richard Gildea

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