Nothing left to chance

Jackie and Jilly took the bus to town

to purchase rolls of labelling.

 

They peeled them one by one

as cellar to attic

they ticketed

every single thing they had.

 

This for Jeannie, that for Joe,

lawn mower for Neville,

baptism gown for baby Ivor,

Spode tea set for Glynis,

fire-dogs for Roger,

so on and etcetera.

 

A long long day

of upstairs and down

before ‘job’s a good un’

and a nice cup of tea -

no sugar for Jack

two lumps for Jilly -

supper and bedtime

after ‘News at Ten.’

 

Jilly fetched a silvery tray -

holding steaming mugs of milk

hot toddies laced with Tramadol

Milk of Magnesia – ‘just in case’ 

and an album of photographs -  

taken long before Jack’s cancer stirred -

of their wartime wedding day -

‘For all the family to share.’

 

Jack comforted Jilly’s hand,

“The pills will hide the taste of whiskey.”

Jilly replied, “That’s good.”

 

They lay in each others’ arms.

Flicking through pictures,

Reliving moments.

Feeling drowsy. 

Feeling happy.

Falling asleep.

 

 

 

◄ A Walk in the Country

I slept with a girl (revised for new book) ►

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