Bad Luck


His fuchsias, crushed by the iron skip,
were the best I’d ever seen.
Now the builders had bought chaos
to his ordered garden.

In passing he had shared a little
of his life with mine,
explained how to grow fine flowers,
the problem with his legs:
a man uneasy with retirement.

Passing each day with the dog,
logging the changes
I watched the house remodelled
to a plan I couldn’t reason,
watched the garage changed
into a room.

they built the wheelchair ramp.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: