The Fairytale of Mullingar
It was Christmas Eve that day.
In the food bank
A Ukrainian said to me:
“We won’t see another one.”
And then he sang a song
Unfamiliar to me or you.
I turned my face away.
He took his plate of food.
--------
He was a lucky one.
Came to Ireland on day one.
His people left reeling
Some tears from me and you
So Happy Christmas
Love to Ukraine
You’ll see a better time.
With flags of yellow and blue
--------
They’ve got tanks from the Yanks.
They’ve got missiles of old.
But Russians plough through them
Buildings crumble and fold.
When I first saw that family
That cold Christmas Eve
They said they were lucky
to be in Mullingar with me
--------
He was handsome.
She was pretty.
Said: Kiev is their city
When the news finished playing
They cried out, “no war”.
Zelensky was winning.
All the Mums they were crying.
Kids killed on the corner.
On that terrible night.
--------
You’re no bum.
You’re no punk.
You’re not even drunk.
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You’re tortured, you’re bedraggled.
With the weapons you haggled
Happy Christmas my friend
I pray God it’s the end.
--------
And the boys of the Mullingar Choir
Were still singing Galway Bay
And the bells were ringing out.
That Christmas Day.
////////
Wake up and dream
The then sky and the now sky, they are one
Your childhood memories so far away,
—yet they are just yesterday
The clouds move slowly as if to convey
You are miles away from a time—you used to play
--------
Rose tinted glasses, I wore on those halcyon days
A requiem for dream – and a midsummer haze
We played on the lawn, April thru May
A painting fit for hanging at the Louvre or d’Orsay
--------
Reality distortion and electric sheep
Are we inside the Matrix deep?
Can we download our so called Self
or what if it’s just a book on a shelf?
--------
Will It matter real or faux
The world is not what it may seem
We are all still children
Wake up and dream.
Laurence Meehan is a member of Inklings Writing Group, who meet Tuesdays at 10.50am in the Annebrook House Hotel.