Changing The Last Page* Poem by Ian Bowen

There in the far corner
of her conservatory,
seated in a floral-patterned easy chair,
she now looks out onto her garden.

A closed book on her lap
had been placed there
in disappointment.
‘Why didn’t that doctor
marry that lovely nurse
and how could he have
accepted that job abroad
and left her in such a state? ’
she muttered to herself.

The heat of a burning sun
radiated through the glass.

Her ‘I will finish this book’ eyes
had become heavy and tired.
She shuffled into
a more comfortable position,
inch by inch fell
into her ‘Mills & Boon’ dream;
where she changed the last page
to suit her now sleeping smile.