walking along the footpath
her B&W portrait
left
by the side of the road...
I stop to take it all in
and realise
that what had been on her mantelpiece
for most of her life
was now waiting
for the bin collection.
I look to my right
her house now empty and up for sale.
I glance back at the portrait
and see a young, beautiful woman in the photo
her hair
in 1940 buns
her eyes sparkling
and full of
life,
hope,
promises
and wishes.
did she have a family or are they all gone now?
I start walking again,
my trivial thoughts stolen by her portrait
now left
by the side of the road
now waiting
for the bin collection.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem