I saw a boy in striped pyjamas
Standing by my bed
He looked lost, confused
I blinked, he was gone
I talked to the woman next door
Drunk on her afternoon sherry
She told me of the boy next door
Her son, who died too young
An accidental death, they said
He hung himself in the bath
She said he was practising sailor’s knots
He wore his striped pyjamas
A dream, a ghost, a memory
I’ll always wonder what he was
As the dog barks at the adjoining wall
I think of the boy next door.
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