28 August 2017

The two accordions
sound like mice squealing.

Oh so different from last night.
So it is, subdued
demeanour and silence strong.

The men talk to men,
I talk to no one.

My mother on the phone line
telling me her life.
Quiet smile and untalked nods.

The garden needs mowing,
the husband never does.
Quiet disharmony ruining
perfection on this sunny day.

She’s the one to go, I return to my
GMT. This life is a simple one,
if one allows it to be.

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