A cloak hid her weight
Or she hoped it did as
She scoured second hand bookshops and
Thirty-five years of books that she
Never let go.
You can imagine that lonely bungalow, the kind
They clear out on TV, with explanations from a
Psychologist, so when
Annie broke her hip she had to watch
Other patients during visiting hours and
Although she seemed on the mend,
Being both obese and diabetic
She was easy meat when the
Virus came visiting.
The book she was trying to read before it got
Censored by intensive care was, aptly enough,
A journal of the Plague Year, or Memorials of the
Great Pestilence in London in 1665 by
BestSeller Library edition, 1959, price
Three shillings and sixpence
(Somehow, she'd hung on to her sense of humour).
Understandably they burned it
The only book Annie ever let go