From the Cradle to the Grave


By Aisling O’Connor

Her timeless eyes remain still

But see all there is to offer,

All the bumper car crashes

And slop machine clashes

Between old aged gambles,

Parents and stubborn children

Whose sticky gingers stain the glass

She peers though.

Her crystal ball

Slips from her grasp

After decades of resting between porcelain fingers

And as of late

They just don’t reply on her like they used to.

Twitter: @thisdreamsalive



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