Silver Star - 3,374 Points (JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)

Mrs Coutts - Poem by GRANT FRASER

Mrs Coutts lived on the ground floor
in the block next to ours,
between us stood the communal bin

She had lilac coloured hair
and a big chocolate chip
on her pointed chin,
but not the kind you'd think to eat,
and she stooped, like a knife half in,

her pinched face reminded me
of a witch, i once saw in a feature

'look I've told you kids time and time
again - keep awa fae my winda!

Mrs Coutts was in her seventies
but for kids - time is not a factor,
Her husband also long dead,
I often wonder if she wasn't still
looking for him or a friend,
I mean there was never anyone else around,

But there you'd spy her, while putting
the rubbish out, ready to boil us dead,
like the old boy did next door to those crabs,
look - 'still alive and so red! ',

Mrs Coutts, still stands there,
before the window of my thought,
her face so awfully serious and prim,

Yet one day. while whizzing around,
either pretending to be a jet or a train,
two men in black suits carried
out a big wooden box, shiny brass handles,
something on the lid,

I hovered in close, drew back my wings,
then it clicked, cause they kept my gran
in one, in a very dark room with the
curtains drawn...

Mrs Coutts, the old witch was finally gone,
there wasn't anyone else around...
as they slid her in,
I thought - she probably isn't in there,

Now and again, I see her still,
peeping from her window again
with that fabulous blue hairdo,
and chocolate chip chin,
and me still wondering who she
really was,

Whirling round and round
in her wedding gown,
like me being a jet or a train,
with all the crazy fuel in the world!

Mrs Coutts, lived on the ground floor
in the block next to ours,
between us stood the communal bin

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, March 17, 2013

Poem Edited: Saturday, May 11, 2013

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