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| Upended Her eyes rolled in disbelief as he took his last breath And his hand slipped her grip, one final fleeting feeling. Her life upended, she slumped in the face of death Stockinged feet in mid air, toes pointed to the ceiling. Her slow tears scorched a trail like a nettle sting As she sat quite alone, in her battered armchair. No joy, so little comfort each new day would bring Now she knew for sure that he’d not be there. And so, in this thick undergrowth of empty emotions Where she no longer pays attention to convention, She’s just a sad old bird, looking tattered and forlorn Wishing it could be over, that she’d never been born. |