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Lately it’s getting harder and harder
To work out what I need to say to you

As I wander past calloused trees
Roasted by summer heat just to become
Ready meals in winter’s freezer,
I chance upon it – the reluctant phrase.

The rheumatic tune of a busker’s harmonica
Wrenches me from the thought before its mine.
I don’t mind, the dopey hum of it draws a smile
So I put a fifty pence piece in his hat’s empty belly,

Hoping I’ve bought enough piece of mind for both of us.

Hours later, I’m sat alone at six a.m. in Victoria Park
The sun is wrestling with lime-scale clouds
And it’s starting to get really cold.
I open a can of beer, bought from Sainsbury’s
The night before. Then I remember –

I don’t even know where you live now anyway.

© Sean Macro 2013

*****

Todays featured poem is by Sean Macro, who we have featured a few times before. A comment upon the emptiness and intransigence of life, experience and memory, Sean equates himself to a tramp, ever moving onward, looking for something that has been lost long ago. There is a sense of sadness and loss that permeates this piece, the journey sometimes not having a purpose, things being misplaced along the way until all that is left is Victoria park at six A.M, and a comforting, but ultimately empty can of beer. Poignant, introspective and confessional.

What are your thoughts on todays poem by Sean Macro?

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