farewell, old black settee

farewell, old black settee

your leather had become tired,
brought to ribbon corners
by determined claws.

we pushed you over,
and turned away from your dusty belly.

corpse like, we pulled you
through a final doorway.

as we righted you
in the cobbled yard
the rain started.

inside –
sat on plastic garden chairs -
we listened
as the pitter-patter of
damp neglect,
echoed
listless on the night.

in the morning
two welsh-speaking men
took you away.

broken-backed,
you gaped in the sunshine
as the open air van
trundled down the lane.

watching your exit,
i realised that i didn’t do half the things
i would have liked to do on you.