Happy Birthday Marie, 100
Happy Birthday Marie, 100,
splashed across the evening news.
Replete with colour photograph,
seen wearing another girls shoes.
Happy Birthday Marie, not knowing.
In meltdown, fused in your chair.
Your family, they loved the Queen's telegram,
and look there's the Deputy Mayor!
Happy Birthday Marie, not hearing.
The paper describes you past tense.
Dream of the cat that sits on your lap,
as none of this makes any sense.
Happy Birthday Marie, dementia.
Alone, with your family round,
long suffering daughter bears crucifixed grin,
she's aware you are already drowned.
Copyright © Gavin Lockey | Year Posted 2007
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