Trumpets involuntary

No moon
tonight
No stars
in sight,
A single candle
throws
a little light.

A scene I’ve been in
sat and cried for
friends
who only lived and
never should have
died.

Time slows to bow its head
a clock shrieks the hour to the
hour of the dead.
I am post traumatic being led
to the house of tears.
Paint my face again to colour out the aching pain
and light another
candle.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.