A Battered Hat

A room..a shadow formless
Quiet on the floor.
A window...
flowers fading...
Out beyond
The dust of time is settling
In the evaporating myths.

She must get up and walk..
Where will she walk ?

She’s tired of her walks...
The talk..sick of the women in the store.
Repeat repeat and
Jaded by the wars
The Burma Railway..Holocaust
The Men
Who took the ‘devil’s lair ‘
The ‘carnage in Nanjing
Black market profiteering
The kiss that never was
The bricks of red ... the trees
They’re tedious

The fallen jewellery
Shattered
Lies in little pieces
Round her feet.

The lover left so little...

A battered hat is all that she has got
Is all that she can use
To seek her muse.

Kristine Byrne Sept 2013