An unkempt face and dribbling
jowls; not in the least fastidious
about leaky gravy or wayward soup.
Threadbare knickers, careworn
slippers, impossibly wrinkled
stockings; wanting in decency and
pride. A toothless, bashed-in smile,
because dentures have gone AWOL;
sneaked off in the night while
no one was looking out for the
Steradent on the bedside cabinet.
And this is what she has come to;
the former Head Teacher, leader
of rough-hewn girls - who had
succumbed to the mistress of
etiquette and style. Now, all
day long, she mutters in Latin;
bring me my books, where are my
books? While busy nurses multi-task
the hours, teasing gently, over sorry
garments that had once excelled
in well-groomed classrooms.
©2011 Carol Rogers
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