Sweet Charity

By Silver Spun Sand

Mon, 06 Oct 2014
  • 1969 reads
4 comments
 
Soaked to the skin, she shuffles in
in front of me – bags in tow.  She’s here
to shelter from the rain. So am I, 
if the truth be known. 
 
Cussing under her breath, wipes her nose 
on the sleeve of her coat – held
together by a wing and prayer.
 
She glances my way, or perhaps –
just my imagination.  In any case
her eyes protest, “Been there, 
done that. Wrote the book and took
the lead in the frigging play.”
 
I go through the motions...pretend 
to search the rails of mothballed clothes,
jam-packed with Crimplene frocks, 
Bri-nylon blouses, bobbled sweaters – 
donated from the deepest, darkest depths
of over-bulging wardrobes
of its affluent donors. 
 
The guy runs the joint bids her move on; 
shepherds her discretely out the door. Job done –
wipes his hands on his trousers, like
he’s just kicked out a dog.
 
For a while she stands, undecided
which way to head, as rain drips 
off the awning –trickles down her neck
sends shivers down my spine. Her eyes 
vet the length of the high street.
 
Torn between ‘Keech Cottage' and ‘Sue Ryder’ – 
she opts for the latter; black sacks in the porch 
will keep her warm; provide a place to lay
her head. Looks back along the road; 
 
him from ‘Help the Aged’ shuts up shop 
for the day. She gives him a ‘V’ sign. Closes 
her eyes; ain’t it joke when they say, charity 
begins at home?
Certificate 12
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)

Comments

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Nice portrait of natural weaknesses, Tina. So much harder to take the alternative path. Harder still to speak up. Will think of this poem today.

Parson Thru

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, PT.

Tina

 

Submitted by Bee on

You make the point so well in this piece, Tina. 

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, Bee.  Pleased you thought so.

Tina