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A Letter

Today I wrote a letter
Not unlike others I wrote before
Didn’t say anything any better
I put it with the others in a drawer.

I was trying to find words
That would best express the way I feel
Explain all that’s occurred
If they could, make an effort to heal.

I was thinking of star crossed lovers
Both quirky in their different ways
Hearts broken like so many others
Felt words desert me in search of a significant phrase.

I was trying to conjure a sentence
For you to read and comprehend
Offer some form of repentance
Of why I turned out like other men.

I was trying to excuse the immaturity
Of a strong willed adventurous youth
Trying to show it was no ruse as I wrote assuredly
That every word ink filled, was a word of truth.

The more words I tried to grasp
The more they slipped from my grip
And I cursed all time past
Knowing better should of passed my lips.

© Daniel Breslin

A Hot Day In September

A hot day in September
Is a day I will remember
The breeze touches tender
It is Dublin in all its splendour.

Each blade of grass serene
As we laze on Stephen’s Green
Women Autumn has seldom seen
Pass smiling beneath a Summer’s beam.

How much difference a bit of Sun can make
Changes the mood, and the expressions on each face
It gives so much while the rain can so often take
And if it only lasts today, I am grateful for its taste.

The city has new life, as if the day has just begun
People leaving work feel refreshed as no one feels the day is done.
For as I laze among friends, joking beneath the sun
I have a feeling of being free, of forever being young.

A hot day in September
Is a day I will remember
The breeze touches tender
It is Dublin, it is splendour.

© Daniel Breslin