What became of what’s-her-name
the one who hung around last fall?
Or was it spring, I can’t recall?
Seemed quite sad and melancholic.
We thought she might be alcoholic.
She was with us at your brothers ‘do’
And we talked of how our nails grew?
Well, WE talked, she listened.
Or seemed to.
Then she cried, her mascara ran.
Describe her? I don’t think I can
No, never saw her with a man
Yes! That’s it, you’ve got her now
The one who said you were a cow
to laugh at her that time.
Gassed herself? And her cat?
Why ever do a thing like that?
So who’s now living in her flat?
what does it matter come the day
it’s only chatter what they say
she’s had her life, she’s old and grey
mad as a hatter anyway
she turns her head with muted cry
to hear these words as they pass by
she knows how fast the years can fly
how all lifes plans can go awry
her winter feet now feel the chill
all steps become an act of will
but she can bear life’s bitter pill
while in her heart a maiden
supermarket window shows the ghost
of the someone she’d once been
not dumpy and dull with swollen legs
but a girl with sights unseen
such a pretty girl and a bright girl
with a sparkle in her eyes
life with meaning to be seen in
how she’s reaching for the prize
eyes growing teary, she’s so weary
as she leans against the glass
and slides slowly to the pavement
as the late night shoppers pass