I knew a not so old woman who lived

In a very ordinary 4×2

In an ordinary street

In an ordinary town

In a very very ordinary country.

As the years crawled  by

She felt herself falling

Into the gaps

As parts of her house collapsed.

Loving others stopped her falling for a while

Later doing good deeds and thinking good  thoughts

A constant smile

Kept her visible

In the crumbling walls.

She tried laughing as she stood  boldly hand on hip

Hoping that courage would do the trick

Dressed herself in bright colours

Talked loudly ,made  a nuisance of herself

Phoned family and friends at odd hours

Wrote  letters of complaint

But no one could see her it seemed ,even those she’d loved the most

Walked by without a sound

Stepping over  the rubble of her home.

Then she was reduced to clinging onto the jagged ends of bricks and glass

And screaming loudly for help



Nothing could keep her from disappearing.

Each day she grew dimmer and dimmer

Until she could just see by squinting and catching the light.

Next her hair started to go

Each morning she woke up

Stumbled to the  remainng bathroom mirror and looked

(as well as she could by squinting )

Each day the colour faded until pale bits of fluff floated onto the dirty floor

Mingled with the soil and blood .

Then her hips collapsed

Her shoulders went one at a  time

Next  her knees.


Until she was just a grey ,skinny stick

whom no one heard

no one saw

no one remembered

She had disappeared completely .