Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Old Times

She never asked for a band of gold
Big house, two kids and life old
She'd rather die young and agile
Than old and cold feeling fragile

Sitting still with memories past
Just waiting for the next task
Getting out the sodding chair
Life's become such a nightmare

Able bodied in a strange land
Waking again is hard to stand
When will this nonsense end?
How much longer can she pretend?

Here we go again, another day
Bus is late again says the display
Hello Mrs Brown how are you
Hips ache as usual, shoulder too

To the doctors for a checkup
Another x-ray, what the fuck
Aching knees and back brittle
She pours a drink alas not little

She swallows a little from her glass
Memories unfold of a love long past
A tear trickles down her cheek
If he could only hear her speak

But speak she may he'll never hear
He's long gone over a year my dear
She listens for him hard at night
And tries to feel him hold her tight

But when she finally falls asleep
Into her dreams he quietly creeps
They talk and dance the night away
But in the morning he never stays

She wakes alone with a start
Damn let it be real she imparts
Who is this lady old as can be
Is she my fear deep in me

Montmartre Antique Shop Window, Paris

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