by Paul Brookes

flat capped and muffler’d,
grey Gabardine coat done up tight
as her indoors don’t want him
catching a cold or ‘summat worse;

this February Sunday across from the pub,
Vern takes yard brush to public pavement
where his spotless wall meets path;
carefully scrubs moss and dust
on to the quiet road. Later,
he will lay black roses on her grave
and tell her, he has done his chores.

 

 

 


“Final resting place” by Tommy Høyland