Poem: A Senior Citizen Christmas

Wednesday, December 13th, 2006

The peach ice-cold, she lifts it from the bowl.
She loves the velvet texture same as always,
lifts it to her lips to kiss the skin. A baby’s arse.
It’s the time-honoured way of eating the thing.

She sees herself in the mirror, lined and grey.
Her dentures touch the surface of the peach.
She pulls away. She feels the absence of him.
The peach survives intact for one more day.

Christmas was once a time of joyous rhyme.
The children ran around the house laughing.
Now they’ve gone. Some died ahead of time.
Others live new lives with new wives in Bolton,

Australia, Manchester. They come to see her.
She cannot remember the last time they came.
She rises from her chair, suddenly heavy. Old.
Queen’s Speech in five. She asks for pudding.

categories: creative