Father Poem by Hermione Femalton

A simple cross,
Upon the door;
A scarlet stain,
On the wooden floor.

A wailing baby
On the bad,
Waiting, wanting
To be fed.

The draft of air,
The coming breeze;
Whispering softly
Through the trees.

Mother lies,
Cold as stone;
Her wrists are cut,
Right to the bone.

A lake of blood,
Where mother lies;
Leaving baby,
To cry and cry.

Father's not there,
He wasn't around;
No, Daddy was out,
With a girl in the town.

(December 2008)