Ireland "My friend you would not tell with such high zest,to children ardent for some desperate glory, the old lie; dulce et decorum est pro patria mori"
All poems original Copyright of Niamh Price 384 followers / 8.4k words
And now the Sweetest voice Is a whisper of an echo Of a memory. And pictures fade, Muted colours of shame. And the mind Plays ***** tricks. And the heart Drowns in silent tears.
Just a little doll Wrapped in blankets, Dark lashes Pillowed on milky skin, Still warm to the touch. Only white lips And eyes, Not quite closed, Giving lie To the belief That you're sleeping. Be at peace little man. Be at peace.