BRAVE

When you rise,


wipe your eyes,


feed your kids,


drop them to school,


when sleep is what you crave,


to curl up in a grave,


where no sound can reach,


no hurt can breach,


and nothing is nothing


but blissful, painless sleep,


there’s no bill unpaid


 and you’re holding no-one back,


because you look worn and cheap,


that’s what I call brave.


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Published on October 19, 2017 02:39
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Postcard from a Pigeon

Dermott Hayes
Musings and writings of Dermott Hayes, Author
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