Finished Product

Last year I wrote a poem and put it on my blog but since then I've worked on so I thought, seeing as I'd put all that effort in, I would inflict the finished product on you.

When I’m An Old Woman

When I’m an old woman I’ll eat ratatouille

and my house will smell of garlic and onions with

the aroma of olive oil and empty bottles of red wine

and bleach, toilet cleaner, old perfume and loneliness.

But with failing hearing I shall hear the phone

because day in and day out I’ll long for it to ring.

I’ll chat to foreigners who want to sell me

life insurance, car insurance and holidays.

Then I’ll put the phone down and hear the silence.

And I’ll dust and polish spick and span surfaces -

must keep busy.

I’ll welcome Jehovah’s Witnesses with joy

because they’re a voice and someone to talk to,

then they’ll go leaving me unconverted

and the Watch Tower they give will be screwed up in the bin.

I will watch the kids playing in the street

and moan when the ball comes over the fence.

I’ll threaten to burst it with a garden fork

because I envy their youth and their energy.

Then when the darkness falls, I’ll pull the curtains closed

and pray and thank God for another day he’s spared me,

but he’ll know, I’m tired, I’m old and I’m a liar.