Buttercup

The boy was coaxed into the room
clad for the first time
in his new school uniform

nothing was said
the heavy silence in the dim light
warned of a new unknown

leaden on the bed
his fearful eyes spoke
but nothing else moved.

After purposeful nudging
young lips sought the rough cheek
bright as buttercup in the sweated sheets.



*Ivor Murrell has written poetry for over 40 years, but could only give it the time it demanded when he took early retirement, which also allowed him to build his website www.versifier.co.uk to share his writing.