Packers and lifters.

Packers and lifters.

I could only watch

As they tore through the packing

Two people

Whirling pirouetting

A modernist couple

Packing along to music

A threepenny opera

Nothing prepares you

For the wrench

Of moving house

There is always something

Of you left behind

In half-empty containers

Beneath the sink

Bent coat hangars

A box of keys

The shape of the bed

Outlined in

A sun-faded carpet.

All those things

Kept out of sentiment

On a shelf

In a wardrobe

Holiday mementoes

Birthday Cards

Fridge notes

An empty whisky box

A Macallan

A Christmas gift

Enjoyed over many

Lonely nights

Well not so much lonely

As alone

By choice

Nothing could replace the memory

Of real love

So why try

When the

Whisky in the bottle

Kept its counsel

Didn’t want

Anything more

Than I was prepared to give

And rarely spoke out of turn.