I keep my eyes averted
Because it’s rude to stare,
Each night I sit with Mother
And read aloud Jane Eyre.
I often dream of attic rooms
Where I pace alone,
I often dream I’m paralysed
Inside a skin of stone.
I don’t recall a single Fall
Before my Daddy died
But I remember his cold funeral
And how our Pastor lied.
When I look in the mirror,
I see a stranger there
Standing close behind me,
Gently brushing my hair.
Kevin McCann
Picture Nick Victor