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 .