Meanwhile

He was at Alamein and Anzio
Then in the City. He enjoys, with Joan,
The privilege of seven grandchildren,
The baby-sitting, visits, telephone.
A morning shopping stroll, the time of day
With friends; then gin, and lunch of soup and cheese,
The crossword, armchaired doze, a cup of tea
With Countdown, television  these
The framework of an undemanding drift.
True, there are responsibilities
He's treasurer and sidesman at the church
While Joan arranges flowers, does the teas.
They're members of the National Trust, of course,
Do theatre visits with the local club,
Have dinner here and there with long-time friends,
And sometimes slip round to the corner pub.

But much too often there are funerals
Where, looking round, they speculate Whose turn
Is next ? Each symptom suffered now disturbs
Is this the herald of the final urn ?






© John Wedge

2001