Pádraig

[shut quartz]

The few times I visited you
You would ask me, what’s your name?
I told you it was Patrick

You told me how in Ireland
They would call me Pádraig
You asked me again, what’s your name?

Sat in your emerald chesterfield
Wondering at the people
Framed upon the mantelpiece

Grains of sand slipped down
Now you sit up there
With the frames on the mantelpiece

I came to the churchyard in Ireland
Hoping to hear you ask me one last time,
What’s your name?

[kind oyster]

I am assuming this person was forgetful , and them occasionally asking you your name and telling you you'd be called Padraig became a sort of commonality that was like an inside thing, and once they died, you yearned for them to ask you that once again

this was kind of solemn, it's not too long but it gave me enough to feel sadness, that melancholy air was brought upon well, especially with the ticking of time being shown as the grains of sand slipping in an hourglass , we don't use that metaphor nearly enough

and also I'm sorry for the loss of your friend (if this is based off of a true incident)

[shut quartz]

hi this is exactly right, this poem was based off my grandad from ireland who died of dementia and when i visited him he would tell me that. thank you so much for your lovely comments

[kind oyster]

ohhh.... my condolences for your loss...

[shut quartz]

thank you he died years ago when i was very young so its fine

[main basalt]

Ok first of all, I'll be only complimenting onto the theory writing. The flow is very well good, and the words choice! Omg it's nice. The imaginary u used in this poem was worth a shot! I think this deserve much more love. I would rather it 8/10