Poetry

Just a mouthful

1 minute read

Don’t look up I say.
Just take your time.
Look, just a few steps ahead.
As one they nod,
then stare up once more,
small faces filled with dread.

I make them sit on a rocky ledge,
to view the sea far down below.
I tell them that we’re near the top,
there’s not too far to go.

I pass a bottle of water around.
Just take a mouthful I command.
I can see rebellion cross their minds,
so then I play my hand.

Ice creams for all
when we return.
Not from the fridge, I’m made to swear.
But real ice cream, choc chip and mint
From Mauds Parlor in the square.

Just a dander, I’d said,
a little walk, a stroll in the evening sun.
With wet lips, cracked grins, and new lease of life,
We climb again as one.

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My name is Liam Robertson. I live with my four children in the village of Rostrevor. I had a wife, Niamh, but she died not that long ago. Most days you will find me writing code to feed my family. Most nights I write prose and poetry to prick and prod that ragged tear loss leaves behind.
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