SNOT ON A VACANT FACE

What a beauty she might once have been

much older now and in her wheelchair being

pushed around by a carer or at least a younger

woman tending to her every personal need.

The older woman droops with a hazy look

upon her face just staring into an abyss of only

she knows what – letting the 9 inches of what

looks like shamrock coloured snot billow out

from underneath her lack awareness nose.

Then the carer wipes away the mucous blot as

we the lookers on just wince and give a cough.

What tales she could have told us of the past and

of the blast of times she had known - outgrown

as lack of familiarity stares back into her hazy eyes

◄ WINDS OF CHANGE

SCENTS ►

Comments

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Paul Sayer

Fri 29th Nov 2019 15:49

What an afternoon of such amazing poetry... this included!

My running nose matches and blends with my briny teardrops.

Men don't cry... Ha!

Never judge a poem by its title, that is what this taught me!

Now I really understand the title.

Po

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