July 2, 2022Poem

They walk to work together,

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They walk to work together,

Friends since childhood

Fifteen proud men, still young

Though growing older by the day

He knows they will be friends until they die

Nobody knows when that might be

Anything can happen

Before the light has dawned.

They walk down the steeply cut shaft

Riven through slate and stone

As far as the coalface

Toiling in starless darkness

Until the shift change

They have worked through daylight

From morning until night

And will for three weeks more

Until they swap shifts and then they will sleep

All-day

Or prop up the bar at the Colliery Inn

Drinking warm beer

Putting it on the slate

Until payday.

He takes a short way home

Through the churchyard

Too tired to lift his feet

Stumbling over the dead who came before him

Undressing without switching on the gaslight

Washing with cold water

From the standpipe

In the yard

Starless under thick cloud.

He counts the days until Sunday

When he might just see the sun

Spend some time with the children

Playing football on the green

He loves to see them run

The love of life still in them

A dinner waits in the side oven

Kept warm from the banked fire

Still glowing

He is always amazed at how good, food tastes,

When it has been waiting for so long

Perhaps she really is an angel.

On the mantel are the pictures

Of all the people he knows and loves

Some long gone

The dust of death mouldering their memory

But never will the worms eat them all away

Not until he too is gone

And maybe, not even then

He can feel their gaze

See the smiles on his children’s faces,

He rarely sees them awake on weekdays,

And will kiss their heads before he rests

The smell of medicated shampoo

The soft tickle of silken curls

Brings a tear to his eyes

His wife will turn in her sleep

They will melt into each other

Bodies matched to every curve

Her warmth will be his reward

As he sinks down into the deep of slumber

Beneath the hand-washed sheets,

Growing thin in places,

One more time

Before the cock will crow

And the toil of life will start anew