for Maureen Toley
left without fuss
in the greenness of June.
at pub tables
kept mobiles to their ears; girls
their glasses of white wine;
kids prepared to leave schools, mums
wants and needs, as they
have always done; middle-aged men
into their beers, thinking
they had almost grasped something—
passed by the church where she was known,
unaware that an old woman had left
like the evening sunlight,
hope like the extravagant green trees
love like a slow wick in tallow
burning in a thousand hearts.
© Godfrey Rust 1999, email@example.com. See here for permissions.