The Draft Dries My Eyes
Poetry By Gerard Haughey

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The Draft Dries My Eyes
Poetry By Gerard Haughey

what punishment or sentence-
would fall upon a Soul-
to never be loved?
Fits like a glove-
to keep a man out of hell-

A life-long spell-

what did I do,
what did I do?
sitting still- on the floor at the door-side
listening, leather soles pitter patter- and
and the chit-chat's, chitter chatter-
as familiar strangers who live and love
each other- pass me by-

did I hear a shoe drop upstairs?
hey they're in their room, laughing?
laughing at me, I'm sure- right?
my gloom-and all my tears, right?

I'm doing my time- right?

laying down slim and long-
my window is beneath the door-
I can't stand to look at their faces anymore-

time is like a pause-
crawling with me along these floors-
stay strong, stay strong-
it can't be long-
until more soles come along.

I run to my bed to pull back the covers- then
but I'll return again- to inaudible echoes
I'll make my way back to where the air flows
under the door, where my life lies-
and the draft dries my eyes-

November 3, 2010. © Gerard Haughey, All rights reserved