Bent forward, nearly double
Her eyes on the ground
As she pushes the trolley along
The pity aimed at her
Is almost palpable
But she doesn’t notice it
She smiles into a pond
None of us can see
It is spread out before her
As she walks
What a life
The things she knows
Things like
You don’t need beauty to get laid
All that over done machismo
About how you should look
All of it ignored
What counts is how you feel
Inside
Moments she has known
The moment that he realised
he didn’t know her anymore
She saw it in his eyes
That self possessed woman
Who was no longer possessed
Raw, primal sex in a park
When she was young and
they were hidden in the dark
Faceless, nameless carnal
Primal
Cigarettes in theatres
Ice creams in the sun
Feet in mile after mile of sand
The joy of a first flight
When flying was new and rare
The first time held in by a seatbelt
Instead of lolling in the back
The first time fingers tapped a keyboard
On a computer with a screen
Swiped a phone
She smiles into the pavement
Their pity is palpable, touchable
But she knows better
Her knowledge is endless
They think the world is moving so fast
But truthfully it spins more slowly than ever
What has it done in her lifetime
Flight, motorways,
Computers, colour television
Phones. And oh, oh the clothes.
Bent over, nearly double,
Brown skirt, brown jacket
Secrets hidden in shades of beige
And gilded, patterned, darned with age
Ah the life she has led,
She smiles into the pond
Hopes their lives are as bright as hers
As she pushes the trolley on.
A Tuesday Latte 