My next door neighbour

From her dark hair trailing jasmine scent,

Brown eyes pools of stories.

As nimble as a nymph,

Despite the aches and pains she berates.

In her warm lilt I bask

In faraway places times ago spent,

A simpler life,

A harder life,

A life without the constant question

Are you sure you belong here?

Her children grown

Only on loan

Flown from her arms before proper kisses goodbye.

She sees them through a screen

Wishes she could say “beam me up Scotty”

Wrap herself around them, be content.

They want her to visit

And even though she could

Her doubts remain about sitting in what is to her

Nothing more than a sardine tin

Defying the laws of gravity.

Instead, I’ve become like kin

Eager to lap up her tales,

My replacements for the ones I can never hear.

peas with honey