May 19, 2019

 

 

And then Percoughalees was homeward bound.

Too brief his stay – the turn around.

No job the same, but who’s to say,

how rough the ocean from day to day.

 

A back-log of cases in his head.

Some still unsolved, not put to bed.

The rumour mill, the twisted thread.

The wasted time, the signs unread.

 

The handsome pay-out, the mislaid dime.

Blues shaken off, until next time.

Where angels tread, where devils lie;

A world of fear, the hue and cry.

 

The badge of honour, so proudly worn.

A loving heart, with edges torn.

And as the seconds ticked slowly by,

in frustration, Percoughalees heaved a sigh.

 

As a recurring vision of Mendotta’s face,

once more taking root, in his memory’s space.

Was she still on earth? Did she still exist?

Her departure sudden, like evening mist.

 

At times like this, no sense was found.

The hurt blocked out by the crashing sound,

as choppy waters, met gentle ocean spray,

and sleep closed his eyes, to dream of yesterday.

 

 

 

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