She hung a DIY forget-me-not
around her turkey gobble neck,
scrap ends of string tied together
in a knot of careless abandon.
Stained years of sallow pain
were etched into her Marlboro face;
tracing paper thin skin,
pock-marked and aching
whilst she remembered him.
She still travelled to Tulse Hill
every Friday in sun, snow and rain
to sit on the park bench
where he never returned again.
Wallowing in her lonely life
with tears welling in her eyes.
Before that day,
she used to say
she could see verdant green leaves
waving from the trees
and the glass blue sky
with scarred jet smears
carrying far flung lives.
Now she only sees grey.
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