Stopped

Stopped

The house is slowly grinding to a halt

For want of better care and more attention

There’s nagging neglect and a lack of love

A running-down of what once was vibrant

But now, in the empty bathroom

The tap carries on its steady leaking

Its silent drips fall unheeded

And make a stain upon the sink

In the lounge, upon the mantel

The clock un-wound stands silent

And no longer tells the time

Nor chimes upon the hour

In the cheerless kitchen

The plates sit unwashed upon the drainer

Holding dirty forks and knives

Awaiting loading into the machine

And in the bedroom

The floor has gathered a fair selection

Of abandoned grubby clothes

Which have not yet made it to the laundry

Will no-one draw these gloomy curtains back

And let some light back in to the rooms?

How much longer can this go on

Before something starts to give?

How many days until everything’s gone

And there is nothing left that’s fit to use?

And do you think we will ever start again

To put our lives back in running order?

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017