Not so bad, really.

Not so bad, really.

My aunty Jen

Was a good old gal

With her sad story

Never told

But always known

She lived with Grams,

Until she died,

Then stayed at home alone.

She deserved more

For all the shit she took

But never said

The rheumatism

Took her fingers

Then it took her toes

But it couldn’t take

Her backbone

‘Well, if it isn’t our Peter.”

She would say

Bright eyes

Full of sorrow

For the children

She never had

Falling for a wrong’un

When a woman

Should know her place

Was not

To follow her heart

But to toe the line.

A clippie on the buses

She got smaller

As she got older

But her eyes

Always shone.

She said

“It didn’t matter

That I stayed here,

When I close my eyes

I fly in the sky

And swim in the sea

Heaven will be waiting

When I’m ready

To be free.”