Tears for Winter Island

I have just returned from the very successful launch of Sean Maguire’s new book, History Tomorrow.  The author has permitted one more poem to be reproduced here.

It’s entitled, “Tears for Winter Island”.

Tears drench sombre faces

as trees bear summer fruits;

mothers scrimp and save to pay

for dead men’s suits.

Solitude takes hold whilst empty

chairs fill lonely spaces.

Shadows scorn solemn crowds, 

nailing their colours to a fragile mast;

Winter Island embraced the ghosts

that haunt the past.


Pain comes and goes like changing tides, 

stark reminders of the hurt inflicted

during forgotten years.

Memories are all that remain now,

tucked away, solace for our darkest fears.


Winter Island sighs;  draws deeply 

on its dying breath.

Tears, bitter tears that flow 

in human streams, are calm now 

seducing our hopes and wildest dreams.


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