Out of This World
Sipping her tea without any visible relish,
Her crumpled bag of shopping at her tired feet,
Alone she sits in the cafe and isolatedly apart
Stranded in her sorrowful sea of sadness
Only to raise momentarily her sightless eyes
At the sound of the peripheral trivial vivacity
Portending the levity of another tomorrow
Before relapsing into her inward gaze
To consider not the future but endless eternity.
That picture echoed in her hollowed out cheeks
Her funereal clothes, lacklustre look and lifeless lethargy
Spelling out a life no longer enjoyable
More of a sentence to be endured.
She drags herself out of her chair
Gathering her belongings together
For her unsteady exit
To enter upon the remaining days
Of her final moribund pilgrimage
Copyright © Denis Bruce | Year Posted 2023
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