46 Wootton Way

last night I drove past

Your old flat

thought I caught a glimpse of you.

looking out like you used to do

with a smile and a wave

and a tumble of white hair

but looking again I knew what I saw

Wasn’t really there.

wasn’t really there

Wasn’t really there.

I stopped in your corner shop

gazed too long at the shelves

just like you used to do.

Teenagers waiting to close up the place

but I longed to see your familiar face

though I really knew

you were no longer there

you were no longer there.

And the black cat sitting on your lawn

took me by surprise.

It was only a plastic scarecrow there

with glowing yellow eyes.

And though it made me turn my head to stare

And whisper through the autumn air

Goodnight. Are you there?

of course you weren’t there.

You were no longer there.

And driving on  past the park

I saw you walk your dog at every turn.

Now it was very nearly dark

and the smoke rose from the autumn burn.

I vowed never to drive by again

I’d never return.

but I wished you would stay near

I wished you would stay near

and hoped that you might hear.

46 Wootton Way

Written about my Mum, 46 Wootton Way made everyone in the audience cry at Patrick Osada’s poetry night  in the Warfield Festival so be warned!