The Churchyard
I haven't been to the churchyard today,felt too ill and the weather is capricious.
I haven't seen the antics in Hope Street
or more commonly known as Rue Madeleine.
Sometimes when I sit outside the church house,
I watch the self help groups and the 'we help you' groups;
On Mondays, it is drink and drugs,
they crowd on the steps smoking and chatting,
I admire them for their courage, it must be so hard,
what price a gitanes, I love the smell, it takes me back,
to a childhood with men with chimney stack teeth
standing by the docks, selling fish and speaking
in a patois, while I sat on Papa's shoulders
and he asked about the weather and sang old tunes.
I haven't been to the churchyard this week
I do miss the ambience and the oak tree buffeted by wind,
I miss how on Wednesday's you hear the sound of trumpets
and a sign that invites you in to listen and eat your lunch.
I just listen from the outside and read memorials on benches.
Once while I was sitting, contemplating life and even though
there were at least a dozen empty benches,
a man intruded on my thoughts, so I told him what they were,
then I walked away; he doesn't bother me anymore.
Today, I have changed my sheets, hung them out to dry,
taken some ghastly antibiotics to kill a lurking lurgy,
I've sat in the sun, reading with my cat, I'm the cat lady
with all that that implies, by anyone who fears,
Its not so bad an existence really, but I am under the weather,
soon, I suppose I will be champing, griping at life,
I'll sit in the churchyard and chat to the girls,
we'll watch the antics in Hope Street and watch lawyers
in stiff shirts, their juniors carrying briefs,
as they hurry through and believe it or not,
they may be prosperous as such
but what pompous arses they are!
It took a while
but I got there in the end ;-)
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2012-06-14 at 17:27
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Eli |
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