. Poetry from The Great In-Between: Memories of Mary Jane

Sunday, August 6, 2023

Memories of Mary Jane

 


(A lone voice whispers. )


In the twilight hours

Just when the grey clouds


Break and the slow moon rises

Silently announcing 

It's getting too late


I still always wake to remember 

That auburn hair girl

I once used to date


Her bright green eyes  

And a twinkling wide smile


All things  

Young boys dream of  

And for them


To go that extra mile


But like all things that came to pass

Our love withered


The night her beloved Pa died


I tried to hold her hands  

To console her


Prayed God would wipe away all those wet tears she cried


But that new hole in her arm

Which soon swallowed up

All our hard worked for gold


Always left me feeling lonely and cold


It all ended on a fateful night

On June the first  

When the rains fell


And life was a constant fight and everything seemed on top


Filled with thirst


With my wallet and her purse empty


She got that feeling 

To go out stealing


Only to get shot dead by the cops


I can still see her now even after all these sad passing years


Now I'm old and grey  

Sat in this nursing home


Feeling all alone and filled with so many dry tears


I guess those memories of my youth will still linger and will never stop


It's quite crazy now that I'm on morphine to ease the pain


Those images of her standing in the kitchen


With those beautiful green eyes and wide beaming smile


Cooking and singing 

While outside it rained


Still play around the cinemas

In my brain


As I even now 

At seventy-five  

Remember  


Echoes of my first and last love


My beloved wife and lifelong addiction  

Called Mary Jane


My love for you  

Still survives


Wherever you are


And until we are once more  

Reunited


Will always remain


If you can hear this


Just know I still treasure those memories of us

The one's where you were free and truly alive


Copyright John Duffy


Image shared under fair usage policy via Pinterest. 

No comments:

The Sacred Tree