In a mental hospital
In 1989
An elderly lady
On her own
On the ward
Counting out her change
Though she’s got no-one to phone
Her hands are shaking
Her eyes are wide
And scared
She tells the same story
Again and again
To anyone who will listen
They took away her house
Now she’s got nowhere to go
Her man is in his grave
She smiles sadly
And shows me a faded photograph
Of a handsome young man
In army uniform
“That’s my Joe”, she says
“We never had children
We couldn’t, you see”
She starts to cry
And takes a hanky out of her pocket
To dab her eyes
“I hate this place” she says
She wanted to be free
For just a moment
And walk barefoot on the grass
But the nurses told her off
And made her come inside
The ward is hot
Stifling
With all the windows locked
On this summer evening
If only
I could carry her away
To her childhood
When she ran barefoot
In the meadows of youth
Before the electric shocks
Melted her memories
And left an empty shell
To fill with
The thick drip of despair
It can’t be heaven in here
But why do they make it hell?
“I want to go home” she says
But she wants more than that
She wants to go back in time
She made curtains for their home
On a sewing machine turned by hand
Joe made a shed
And a run to house a few chickens
They both liked gardening
He grew vegetables
And she grew flowers
Delphiniums were her favourite
He got interested in racing pigeons
Which she only tolerated
She did not like pigeon poo
On the washing
When he retired from the Electricity Board
For whom he used to read meters
They bought their first ever
Brand new car
He liked a pipe
And sometimes cigarettes
He got hooked on them in the war
When the troops got them for free
He was so looking forward
To retirement
But he only had four and a half years
Before his heart attack
She used to make bramble jelly in the Autumn
And apple sauce with apples from their tree
She was a compulsive knitter
And Joe wore his jumpers with pride
She could make one in just a few days
She worked part time
In the paper shop in the village
She never learned to drive
But she had a bike
They didn’t really have a lot of friends
But they went on nice holidays
Always to Brean
To the same caravan
By the sea
“Where have the years gone?”
“Let’s get a cup of tea”, I suggest
And, arm in arm
We march defiantly
To the kitchen
Even though we should be in bed
And will be in trouble
When the night staff see us
“Milk and sugar?”
“Just milk, please. Thank you, you are a dear.
Will you stay up with me, for a bit?
Only the long corridor to my bed
Scares me”
