‘Excuse the mess’, her voice trickled through, as I walked into the room.
Piles and piles of dirty plates and cups -all stacked up, like a junkyard shop.
Tables, chairs -covered with, torn-ripped letters, unseen.
Drying cobwebbed-covered plants -takes centre-stage as I glance.
‘Please take a seat’ -she motions me -to a couch strewn with thick dust sheets.
Should I sit -or best to stand? Is it safe to settle down?
I perch, ill-stricken, I force a smile, ‘my dear Miss Hannah -what an honour’.
Suspiciously she glares at me ‘now what do you want of me?’
I shift, a little, an awkward pose ‘shall we start to throw these out?’
Miss Hannah looks at the brimming box ‘oh no…I’ll do that later on’.
A sigh seeps though, my patience wanes ‘you said that only yesterday’.
Begrudgingly she agrees, gets a bin bag for our cleaning spree.
We clear one box, a most-rewarding task, together we find the tipping grounds.
My Miss Hannah is very proud, she thanks me and then says out-loud.
‘Oops my skirt is very loose, I’ve lost weight -it’s falling down.’
A worried gasp escapes my lips ‘Oh Miss Hannah, you must eat.’
She waves her hand dismissively ‘my dear young child -stop your fear’.
My time is up, I have to dash, I worry if she’ll be safe tonight.
My Miss Hannah waves at me, ‘I’ll see you next week at three.’
~ Copyright ©yikici 2013