Circles.

Victim of a broken home.

Once there was a little boy happy and bright.
And someone to cancel the fears of the night
Back when the laughter rang all round the home
Then there were three hearts (now there is one)
Then there were kisses and promises made
They were but shadows that tended to fade
In the living reality, the light of day
Fading. Fading. Fade away
Mummy said nothing
Nothing to say
Fading fading fade away

(You can mend a clock that's been torn apart
But what do you do with a little boys heart?)

Taking the leash from the hallway shelf
He sets out to find her for himself
Clipping the leash to his red setters collar
Off goes the dog and he's forced to follow
The sound of them fading fainter to faint
The red setter pulling at his masters restraint
The boy only wanting to open the door
Goes round in a circle and round once more
Just as the handle's within his grasp
The dog gives a tug and his chance is past

(Mummy has gone and daddy will too
And I keep starting this circle anew)

Mummy sends a note saying 'little boy blue
Don't you think that I'm hurting too?
We'll get together sometime somewhere'
The little boy waits at the top of the stair
The red setters lying with his head in his paws
Watching his master clutching at straws
Back in nineteen eighty one
The boy looked away and his Mummy was gone
Now it is nineteen ninety four
And still the little boy watches the door

(Promises promises made in vain
Here we go round in a circle again)

You can fix the window. Secure the door
You can plaster the ceiling and firm the floor
You can render the brickwork till it stand like a joke
But no matter what you do the home stays broke
'Oh Mummy can you see the mess you made?
That in your leaving me, you stayed? '
Once there were three hearts then were two
Now just a little boy cries in the gloom
Out in the corridor seeking someone
He and the setter wait all alone

(The boy had a son but the marraige fell through
Circles, circles, start anew)

Reviews

[Gee]

Tis the little things that folk do for kids from broken homes that leave lasting impressions. I am one of 7, then niece and nephew adopted, so 9, that mum raised in her own after and during 2 bad marriages. Out local greengrocer would deliver on a Saturday then would cram us all into his old car and take us out for a spin, to him this meant nothing probably, to us it was a treat looked forward to all week.
Even now 50+ years later I look back on these trips with a smile.
You're a good man Bryan and wield a fine pen

[Bryan Sefton]

Thank you Carlos. Many years ago I used to take children from a care home out for the day at weekends. They were wonderful kids. I would take them where they could run free like children should. It was the welcome I got whenever I turned up. But they used to tell me things so matter of factly, I used to ache for them. I often think of them. I think this poem speaks of the loneliness they must have felt.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

A beautifully heart-rending poem that speaks to the recycle of pain from one generation to next. This words rang so true to me because of my past, and the issues of ghosts I still cling to. Thank you Bryan for sharing this important poem with its vital truthful message.