old woman

Tells the story of a woman who longs for the past ,addicted to nostalgia + the pain of her death for her family.

I see an old woman there , debilitated of body but sharp of mind 

she glides, picks up a glass,  

Whiskey with a heavy body

 She pours ,sits and sips in the view of a box set 

a more  industrial sight you'd never find

Amongst the DVD's, alcohol and Dogs to pet 

she unwinds,

caresses the bottle with war- torn fingers , 

she exclaims 

"Michael shift that dog dirt, and after that you can go in't loft for me"

And Don't forget to move t'tele, I can't for the life of me see"

in subtle silence , her solitude flows overhead and lingers

amongst the terraces tiles and terracotta rain.

She pours and drinks with thoughts of Polaroid and flashback

Ears full with industrial scores of mill and pub

throwback to Lancashire , with a pint in one hand n a f*g to stub

The thought slips away into the void, she can't go back 

It's a trap

Now there are hospital beds and prescription medication 

served with relish of the thought of times past, 

Deano, Perry and a camera in the hand 

Of frost on the drive and a place for your head to land 

the wisped smoke of nostalgia causes relapse

of a heavy heart, brain and present relation

Opiates, alcohol and inherent desire for sedation 

a structure taught with tension it's bound to collapse

To fall flat

the cub sees an endless night of solid black 

But he smiles and laughs like a duck paddles underwater 

Pondering over time spent and things he could have bought her

 But What's done is done , it can't go back.