Sun Room

Sitting in the sun room At a nearby hotel Reading a new book All was going well Ringing, the phone danced I had an incoming call “Who is this?” I wondered And answered it I chanced The heat travelled through the glass My sweaty palm grappled on the phone An anxious voice was on the line “We need you quick, come home!” To the car I ran And fired up the motor Onto the road I glided Like an old milk floater Back at the house I had arrived To see an ambulance “Your mother’s died,” the medic said A moment anachronous