Saturday, November 7, 2015

The Widow at Ninety

Brian was a good man. Born
in Tipperary, he came here with
his parents when he was thirteen.
Served in the Navy during the war.

We got married in ‘48, at St Ann’s
on Holcomb Road. It’s closed now.
He died of a massive heart attack
when I was thirty-nine, leaving me

to raise the four boys by myself.
I had to learn how to pay the bills.
Would you like another cup of tea?
It’s no trouble. Oh, how I miss him!

He always did the shopping, not me.
He was a better cook than I was—
and believe you me, I'm no slouch!
Not once did he ever hit me or the kids.

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