What could matter … ? A poem by Michael McFarland

It didn’t matter the sky was cloudy, or that the cafes were closed.
It didn’t matter no one spoke to her as she walked
through the almost deserted city.
It didn’t matter a concerned police officer stared at her.
Nothing mattered; he was dead.
He whom she loved was dead.
He had died with only a PPE nurse beside him and not her.
What could ever matter against that?


My second book of Poetry continues its slow, but consistent – persistent? 😉 – stroll towards the City of Completion.


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