Poetry Pleases: Widows
Death the dark socialite introduced the four widows who meet in the lounge bar each to the other. All is not tears and gloom in Jane Williams's memorable poem. There's time for wine, coffee - and talk of attractive men.
Sitting together in the lounge bar sharing wine
not fine, but fine enough to help,
we four, once wives now widows meet
to talk of life. We also speak of death.
Inevitably. Death is the dark socialite who introduced us
each to the other and made us friends.
We swap news.
What shall we choose, lasagne or coq au vin, banana cake or apple tart?
All good I find to ease an aching heart.
But we can see the funny side of dying. Once grieving too long
in the crematorium I found I was locked in,
unlike the dead who can't get out I shouted "Help!"
at startled passers-by who kindly found a key and rescued me.
Always, our children. "Mother, how long will this go on?
This worrying, I mean, she's now thirteen!"
"Well Dan, as you're now forty-five..."
The penny drops, I stop, he laughs.
Together we say "Children!"
Then the mints and coffee. Now is the time for men to be considered.
Humorously. "That one's too young for you". "Bald but he's fun."
"Quite a nice bum! And all his marbles."
None are available, we grumble mournfully.
I sit daydreaming in the pub's cheerful hubbub.
I find I'm happy, sort of. Not the past bliss I knew.
Something different. New, hard won. Well done for us.
And death? I smile to see that cheerfully
the death we're now discussing is "by chocolate"
Delicious! Glorious! But we'll get fatter!
Gladly, yet sadly, we agree that now it doesn't matter.
The taxi comes. Uphill for Pat, then roller-coaster
for the other two. Then me, downhill. A round trip.
Like life.
Copyright © Jane Williams 2004
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
