Tuesday, 01 September 2009

LAST VISIT TO MY AUNT    

    Before World War I
    You were
    ‘The dancing Miss Lucie-Smith.’    

    You survived an earthquake,
    Had a touch of the tar-brush
    And a husband sucked down
    In a quicksand.    

    You lived for more than a hundred years.    

    When I last saw you
    You had lost your wits:
    ‘So nice of you to come.
    Do come again.
    Who did you say you were?’    

    ‘I think she’d quite like to die,’
    Her son told me,
    ‘But she’s forgotten how.’