at a table strewn with necessities
whiskey paper ashtray
an old man
with battles lost and won
with eyes that hold brutalities
of prison and of priests
trying to write a love poem
to convince himself
and everyone
that many moons and years ago
things were soft
philosophy and friendship
simple
people suffer easily
the whiskey mused
while painting love as savage
and so the poem remains
in imagination beautiful
brave
in reality unwritten
Many moons – John McAteer
