by Chris Lawrence

by Chris Lawrence

 

even the pigeons did not come

sandstone witness

to the empty bench,

he had fallen

been in hospital,

children fretted and nursed,

she had no one

almost homeless aged forgotten,

they spoke at the bench

smile with long memory

a life known and understood,

her smile of crooked dentures

and whiskery chin,

those eye still had reality and youth,

at eighty two it is hard

to find love was strange,

unusual to most people,

yet as hospital tubes gave sustenance

she had lain in her armchair

ragged flat

no gas fire

no tv

and lived in afterlife

found by police

through splintered door

it would be hard to explain

yet the bench remained

 

 

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