His eyes were sunken and his voice was low,

There was nowhere else for him to go,

On a mouldy bench with a can of beer,

He let himself shed a single tear,

He’s rambling on to an empty space,

Only skeletons rest in this place,

No more rest for him, that’s for sure,

Nothing is as it was before,

He would rather it be this way,

Now he waits patiently for his day. 

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_{The inspiration for my poem came from real life. One day, my friends and I were walking through a graveyard to get to our local high street and we spotted a man on a bench in front of a grave stone. He seemed to be talking to himself and in his hand was a bottle of alcohol. We were cautious at first but eventually walked up to him to ask how he was. He didn’t seem up for a conversation so we left him alone. When I got home I couldn’t help but imagine why he was there and that’s where the inspiration came from. This is a poem about love, loss and mourning.}

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