Aunt Mary Poem by ktarcus ...

Mary was her name,
plain, simple, uncomplicated,
nothing too troublesome,
if you needed a hand she was there.

Riding through the village on her three wheeler trike
calling out morning to all she past,
regardless if she knew them.

Grey hair streaked, still with golden flecks
some would pay a fortune for them,
tied back in a single ponytail.

Her clothes would not look out of place in Oxfam
she was one of the original hippies
mostly dressed in long flowing floral designs reminicent of the sixties but somehow, upmarket.

Never to busy to talk to all the children no matter how snotty their faces,
she was everyones adopted gran with a bottomless bag of sweets and tissues on hand should ever they be needed.

Often spotted on the estate gathering firewood for her cottage,
a two bedroom stone built thatched roof house,
in need of painting,
but,
she would always say 'next spring'

she was too busy with meetings and socialising
to worry about such things,
Always first up to dance and last to leave
she could bowl a mean wood as well.

It wasn't till after her death that I found out about the real mary,
widow of the earl of kinglass in the shire of inverary
97 years young,
on her own for twenty five of them

Mother of the incumbent earl,
Lord Johnny de lap,
fourteenth in line to the throne of England
owner of loch fyne Oysters.

Her funeral was, like her life, a low key affair
attended by Princess Anne, Prince Andrew and close family
all huddled together in the cold 12 century parish church at the head of the village.

Buried under the willow with her husband,
Each spring more and more daffodils,
yellowing, like her hair amidst the dark shrubbery.

Should you ever visit the village(cairndow)
look to the church yard and if you think you can spot Royalty in the grounds don't be suprised.

They only come to say hi to aunt mary.


Not long after mary's death things changed in the village,
as if innocence had left with her.