The Others Poem by poppy miller

Every morning at seven thirty
Sees the flow of mill girls
Cackling like hens at their breakfast.
The peachy bloom of youth on their cheeks,
Laughter on their rosy lips and memories
In their star-lit eyes of last night's dance
Moon-lit walks and those wild imaginings
Of where their roads will finally arrive.


Standing by are the others
Stood in the butcher's queue
With an ache in their eyes.
The ones who once wore
The rosy lips and dancing shoes.
The others with an experienced knowing
Of the how's and the why's of loving arms
Around slim waists and curling fingers
Grasping bouncing hair.
The others, who all wear the same tired faces.
All with the same knowing thoughts who,
With a shrug of their shoulder and a sigh
From their heart that says
We know where you're going.
We know where laughter, beauty
And dreams fall.

©

18/5/2016