The chime grows apologetic
And I stare at my face on the screen,
Lifting the corners of my mouth, momentarily.
Just in case.
My demeanor grows apologetic,
Wilts in confidence,
The clock on the wall keeps score.
Family would rush to their devices,
With a moment’s fret,
That I am too embarrassed to induce.
Setanta is occupied, battling.
Fionn mac Umaill has a higher calling.
These are the stories I will tell.
I am a Dubliner living in Melbourne. Sometimes I write poems and lyrics. https://doras.org/