Things That Happen

Last night Jezza told me, 

About his mother, 

Since then he has not been Jezza, 

Rather, Jeremy. 

The night was spindled, 

Shakey as the trees outside her window, 

As she lay lacyrmose,

Awaiting the doctors orders. 

In bed for a week,

What a time for it to happen, 

What with work,

Steadily ploughing furrows, 

Erecting a permanent frown. 

Jeremy lay downstairs, 

His hand grasped a glass of wine, 

At home for the weekend, 

To lay in comfort, 

Felt just fine, 

The tremors underfoot, 

Shook quietly, 

Sick deviousness invaded the air, 

A scentless gas, 

The coming peril, 

Arrived by means in no way fair. 

Jimmy the father smelt it first, 

His yelp shook the house, 

The yelp of a man dying, 

Slid down the walls, 

To the very foundations, 

A fast, vast shift, 

In the atmosphere in the house. 

Jeremy dropped his glass, 

His fast mind saw blood upon the floor, 

He flew up to his feet, 

And sought the reason, 

For this disturbance, 

Sought the reason evermore. 

As he ascended floors he knew it, 

He felt the groaning in his heart, 

He felt something swell unsupported, 

Something heavy that would continue, 

To grow, 

And seep, 

And swallow, 

His crimson spirit. 

Oh but he was blazing, 

At 25, 

26 was a difficult year. 

They’ve all been difficult since then, 

He is not called Jezza anymore. 


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