NaPoWriMo Year 5 Day 8: Write your own poem in the form of a monologue delivered by someone who is dead.

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Margaret “Maggie” Flynn

I married her son in the soft days of May,
We tilled the ground ’til it wasn’t clay,
I loved him til his dying day,
At least that what I asked Father O’Callaghan to say,
Truth is he knocked the pints and knocked our heads,
I could’ve turned him over but now he’s dead,
and I a widow, my children safe and sound,
Sometimes the quiet is the most loud.

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