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Did they walk their dogs here every day
Then stop at ‘their’ bench and sit gratefully,
Half-hearing distant cries (Howzat? or Play!),
Half-watching men in whites move on the green
As ‘Flush’ and ‘Bingo’ barked at long leg-drives
That rolled, to dry applause, towards the screen?
Unhusbanded, the days turned into lives
That went on for almost a century —
Wars and revolutions came and went;
Shop windows in the high street showed strange goods
While brands grew less and less familiar;
Children from the new-built neighbourhoods
Wore different clothes, played different games.
And soon they had forgotten what men meant
Who came proposing that they change their names,
And live apart, with them; what could be sillier?
In winter there were evenings by the fire
With books and Scrabble and the wireless, tuned
To the ‘Light’ or the more uplifting Third;
A nip of gin or sherry. When the hours
Of daylight lengthened, stooped among the flowers
They weeded, planted, pottered; tea-times, spooned
Out jam they’d made from last year’s fruit, and heard
Their neighbour practise hymns for Sunday’s choir.
— So, in a few short minutes of my walk
I’ve furnished them with decades here, routines
Adopted to protect them from all harm,
From fears they never felt, once past their teens.
Ninety-five! Did they show bravery and charm
Towards a world that they had ceased to know?
If not, what happened when they had to talk?
What is there to fall back on, when those go?
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