Nothing There

there’s nothing there, she said, although I knew
when she switched off the light they’d soon come creeping back

there’s nothing there, she argued, when I claimed
they were hiding, near the playground, in the park

there’s nothing there, you told me, when we met
and I imagined all that might go wrong

in a future then still undecided, now
the past in which the selves we built belong

there’s nothing there, I soothed our children, when
they too feared there might be another side

about which not just priests and parents, but
their own instinctive happiness had lied

there’s nothing there, I worry, as my life
gutters towards its close, and each cruel dawn

mocks with its vacuous magnificence
those looking for the reason they were born

Tom Vaughan

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Tom Vaughan   would be pleased to hear them