Revolving Door

We used to call you `Bean-Pole`

because you were so slim.

I don’t know if you remember this

slender, was every limb.

I used to cook dinner for all of us

the potatoes, I’d forget the salt.

Sometimes I’d add too much

I was very young, not my fault.

You were very shy with girls

sometimes people would tease.

Remember, you were just a boy

it was hard to feel at ease.

You came home one night

from the first time at a work’s party.

You fell in the door drunk

You were faking, being a smarty.

When mum died, it was tough

there was a special bond with each other.

You ended up alone, more than us

I love you John, my beautiful brother.

Maggie and I came to your bed-sit- room

every Thursday night for a visit.

The sandwiches, biscuits and sweets

that you gave us was exquisite.

Now you lie in hospital, at death’s door

fighting for your life with cancer.

I pray to mum, and our sister in Heaven

“Don’t take him, my prayer; please answer”.

I haven’t been on line for a few days because my brother is really ill and this poem is a prayer to God, even though I’m not religious, but open minded, asking him not to take my brother away from us.