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The casement creaked under the scrutiny of darkness

A lonely candle flickered to the tune of one single log

Unhinged she sat where darkness fell upon her face

Which had grown cobwebs and spider lines over time


It was not so much a memory that cast its shadows

But the onslaught of age and recollection of hardship

Rosemary shuddered at the thought of distant years

Before dementia firmly gripped her ever slipping mind


Outside the stark night resembled her fading essence

Gushes of wind ruminated through cracked openings

Rain pelted at the shutters to the sound of hollow pangs

The frame was as brittle as her shrunken crumbling bones


Beneath a flaky coat of paint the weather had taken its steady toll

Reflected contorted hands nestling under the worn-out blanket

Never again would she be able to get a grip on knitted pride

And the tapestry of life seemed embroidered by lost stitching


She would not hear the rats scuttling near the wooden door

Her eyes too weak to relish in the waning passion of the moon

Rosemary touched upon by eerie storms swayed in her chair

Oblivious to the broken rockers grinding on the floor boards


At the stroke of midnight she startled at the scream on her lips

Licked dry crusts of wear and tear from the angles of her mouth

And succumbed to brittle slumber interspersed with wakening

Braced on the arm rests her hands sought to gain support in vain


Her soul was haunted by yesterday’s clouded remembrance

In which as a young woman she had been battered and bruised

Assaulting sparse threads of joy and happiness never meant to last

To the beat of abuse and violation crushing her feeble resistance


With the grace of sclerotic fortune she was oblivious to the hurt

But deep down subconsciously she was aware of striking injustice

Which left her with window pain set by an aperture of cracked glass

Felt through splintered fragments as she brushed her hands on the sill


Her husband had long died and her children had abandoned her

‘Silly old bat’ they mocked the woman who had given them birth

Fed them and darned socks to set them on a route to independence

Soothed their hurt and put up with their youthful misdemeanour 


For one moment lucid enough to dwell on her plight and sorry condition

She imagined herself a princess in the arms of a hallowed saviour

Who would lead her out of misery and barely felt a startling commotion

When her cat jumped onto her sunken lap and gave a distant smile



23rd October 2019
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