Reflecting Back On The Night The Call Came. (In Memory Of Margaret) Poem by Not Long Left

I had known it was coming.
But as a child may put a
promised scolding from
a returning work weary father
to the back of its mind,
behind the moutains
of mischievous thoughts.
I gave myself to the late
night sunny delight
cheap nonsense of a film.

I was just about to bed
a mute milk skinned blonde
When the escape shattering
shriek of the phone
froze the film and time.
There was no voice
just a muffled sorry
sound of sadness.
It was then that I knew
you had gone.
It was then a part of
me left and has to this
day never come back.

In the car on the way
to see you I chose
to play the Smiths.
Two sorry hearts
were better than one.
I did not want to cry
alone, so Morrissey
and I cried into
the steering wheel.

Past neon signs
and through black plastic
doors, down never ending
sick smelling corridors.
A now familiar walk
coming to an unwanted end.

Round your death bed
were dirty white curtains
How they offered you
dignity now your were dead.
For when you were alive,
and was hanging onto every
desperate breath,
they left you exposed
as uninterested eyes
looked on.

You lay on a bed
of a thousand past deaths
looking the same,
just happier,
whiter,
and gone.

I wetted your cold
grey brow with my
timely tears,
and watched them
roll into your lovely
wrinkles that held
deep so many wonderful
years.

I did not like leaving
you there,
alone and bare.
But deep down I knew
you had gone long before
the call had come through.
And by the look and smile
on your frozen peaceful face
I knew that he had taken
your hand as you walked
of into the light.