Death came to the cottage,

Visited about five years ago.

Unexpected - she was only forty-two.

Left three girls and a man who couldn’t cope.

No hope.

 

Sometime later,

Saw him rushing down the lane in shirtsleeves.

Guessed who he was

On that freezing January night.

Something not quite right.

 

One day the eldest daughter sat behind me on the bus

Talking to another girl -

Somehow I felt they were not really friends.

She told tales of séances and oiuja boards

Of levitating plates and cups

And pictures crashing from the walls.

A little limelight sometimes eases pain.

She'd started to look plain.

 

Said she's with the grandparents now.

Dad still had the younger girls.

She worried over them.

They didn’t always get to school.

They never brushed their teeth,

Their hair was never combed,

Living in their rough-house home.

 

Later I heard the dad had gone to jail

An alcoholic now.

Grandparents stepped in.

Maybe it was too much for them.

 

Then one day walking down the lane

Two policemen stopped me,

Showed a photograph.

It was her little sister,

Not so little now,

Gone missing.

Later she was found.

Safe and sound.

 

I saw the oldest girl again today

On the bus.

She’s got so fat, looks middle aged.

Defeated.

She must be eighteen now I guess.

She looks a mess.

I felt cross for her.

I felt she took the rap.

Cos sometimes life is crap.

　

　

photo : Smiles In Rearview Mirror photostream