She can’t walk round the block

Because the pavement is uneven

She can’t get to the corner shop

Because there is no pedestrian crossing

She’s a prisoner in her own home

Despite having worked hard all her life

She’s dependent on the goodwill

Of her friends and neighbours

Her husband has long passed away

And her sons live abroad

She always thought they’d be there for her

The loneliness has turned to depression

Being stuck indoors has made her frail

She’s on a list for some help she thinks

But every day is more of a bother

Every day gets longer and longer

She worries about her garden

Will the man come and cut the grass

Should she pay for this and that

There’s no one to ask

Her head gets in a mess

She’s tired of fighting

She talks to ghosts instead

They crowd her bedroom each morning

Appear in odd places throughout the day

Quite good company really

She knows them all by name

She’s looking forward to being with them permanently

That’s the only thing she’s sure of

It’s all she has to look forward to

Her life has come to this

3 thoughts on “Ghosts

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