Sean Maguire with a poem from a published collection of his work.
Posted by Jim on September 25, 2018
Death loomed, in rustic space,
rustling leaves, whispered dead man
walking.
Scented flowers, sent his head
spinning,
one last soaking, in April showers.
There was no last-minute reprieve,
all signs of hope disappeared;
his body trembled with fear.
A mud-stained rope, tied feeble
hands,
seconds before the deadly plan;
was executed to the full.