Stanzas: Monthly Chapbooks November 2014: Remembrance | Page 20

The Puddle beneath the Stairwel
George Cole
Twist up towards the brightness above.
Feel the cracked plasters love.
The puddle beneath the stairwell…
Once upon a time in the past of the 90’s,
he was strong not weary.
Many tales of future queries’.
Many ends and women teary.
Left… Left alone.
Years go by, I hear creeks, moans and sigh.
Fresh coat of paint a mask to hide,
this life above and below mine
The puddle my story cold. A life time for growing old.
Drying up, with dusty eyes. Polluted and stepped on!
Oh, well.
The puddle beneath the stairwell.

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