wordsout by godfrey rust
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Maureen

for Maureen Toley

She left without fuss
in the greenness of June.

Lads at pub tables
kept mobiles to their ears; girls

downed their glasses of white wine;
kids prepared to leave schools, mums

juggled wants and needs, as they
have always done; middle-aged men

stared into their beers, thinking
they had almost grasped something—

and passed by the church where she was known,
unaware that an old woman had left

faith like the evening sunlight,
hope like the extravagant green trees

and love like a slow wick in tallow
burning in a thousand hearts.


Godfrey Rust, godfrey@wordsout.co.uk. See here for permissions.