Endless Day

Endless Day

Waking early, escaping hours of restless sleep

Shuffling down stairs in threadbare slippers

And faded dressing gown

To face another tedious day

She makes tea in the old brown pot

And sits at the empty kitchen table

Staring out through the cobwebbed window

Lambent rays of dawn

Flirt with the dark horizon

Struggling to get another daytime under way

Only slowly lighting the cloudy sky

Heavy with coming rain

The silence sits oppressive

And darkness gathers round

She ignores the gently dripping tap

As she drinks a second cup

And smokes a cigarette

Reflecting on the empty day ahead

The hours yet to be traversed

The quiet to be endured

Restlessly wandering from room to room

Sometimes standing, shiftless

Rearranging tasteless ornaments

Long since collected

Now unloved, undusted, unwanted

But something to do with her hands

To keep them from trembling

Sometimes sitting down again

Leafing through year-old magazines

Loathe to listen, minute after lingering minute

To the quiet ticking of the clock

Among the clutter on the mantel

Its hands seeming not to move

As the endless hours stretch away

For another long day with little purpose

The deserted hall, no-one to call

No letters in the mailbox

And a phone that never rings

Staring into empty space

Alone, with time to kill

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2015