By Bill Smith
Old frog croaking in the reeds
Aware he is dying
the old man decides
to gather his scribblings
Something is going to happen
I don't know what
the end of me is death
The hand that gripped the wheel
now hangs limp
thwarted by a pot of jam
Who will be home for Christmas?
children and grandchildren
will I still be here?
This is how it ends
I creep away from the feast
muttering apologies
Bill Smith is a political scientist and social policy administrator from Belfast. During Northern Ireland’s Troubles he worked for the Health Department supporting voluntary action and community development. Most of his previous writing has been in academic or mandarin-speak. Recently 70, he celebrates this as his first published poem.