A futuristic spoof story poetry. Ever hear yourself saying 'it wasn't like this when I was younger'? Well, Mrs.Who knows exactly how you feel :)
Her eyes are sunken
Her frame slightly hunched.
A passing child sneers at her hobbling
down the street, her bags crunched.
Time had aged her beyond her hope
though her mind remained strong
her body could no longer cope.
Every step met a sharp intake of breath.
Frail bones crack under the pressure of
her Sainsbury shopping bags.
Plastic ripping through her paper-thin flesh,
she does not grumble, nor moan or nag.
No one will help, they never do.
Left alone, no family in sight.
Husband, wife, daughter, son? “who?’
She would reply, when a kind soul might ask.
Flying cars whoosh above her head,
She hobbles and sways down the lonely street.
‘It wasn’t like this in my day’ she would mumble
as she walked past the rotting dead; a large heap.
They’re off, living their own lives not
sparing a care for the little old lady who
grumbles and stares at the ‘needless
development, plastering the news.
She unlocks her door, with an old fashioned key.
Shuts out the world she no longer knows.
Stacks away her shopping, stands back to see.
Smiling she turns to a chair, drops in the cushions.
She closes her eyes, remembering a time
when chocolate was a pound apiece
and she still had her partner in crime.
Only in sleep does her soul find peace.