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Armagh.

the old electric fire sits there

cold for many a year

dust thick on it’s rusting bars

 

and the black & white TV

still silent

sees no-one pass this way

 

the green painted door

sits open mouthed

creaking in the breeze

and thatch on the floor

now shelters only mice

 

a burst of holes

in flaking walls

declare that something

once happened here

called history