JOHN’S SHOP

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WHAT BECOMES OF US?

Why did we call it John’s Shop?

There was no sign of John

and the shop was a kitchen under the stairs.

Chipped mugs on a shelf

and a knocked about whistling kettle.

We were sixth formers

fifty years ago.

Mostly skinny.

Thrilled

to squeeze  together

chinking our mugs

dreaming of boys.

*

Why do I remember?

*

Today a drab church

and a coffin.

A light shower.

A safe eulogy to wife and Mother.

I thought of school days.

John’s Shop.

Her mug, her tea.

Her unknown future

And mine.

 

What becomes of us?

 

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About rhymebydesign

Mother, grandmother, mainstream poet and short story writer. Started off in life as a teacher, but then moved out of the classroom in to educational administration. Curious about what makes people tick, including my own tickings! I enjoy long walks, thought provoking books, theatre and leading a simple life. I offer a customised poetry writing service for any occasion you might like to mark. Contact me at rhymebydesign@hotmail.com for a quick quote.

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