The Plumber's Widow Poem by Sheena Blackhall

A daft indulgence, two lagers too many
A fatal crash, but do I sit and mope?
The question's How am I since Brian passed?
I don't give in to things, I always cope

After the fire and ice of honeymoon
The first decade, the kiddies came along
The bandit that's called motherhood pounced in
Goodbye to early nights, silk tights and thong

They say, by Adam's Curse, we're the weak sex
Anxiety I fought by playing bowls
At the last watch, he gave me the insurance
Now no more football TV, counting goals

For our last anniversary, drop pearls
And off to Spain, our annual holiday
Goodbye to clouds, ta-ta to rainy Britain
For Brian, break from drains, hip-hip-hooray!

I heard the cuckoo sing. His ma's in care
Not my responsibility, now he's dead
I go to Bingo with my old chum Fay
Two fat ladies knock fate on the head

He snored, you know, as mournful as a dirge
The Eagle's landed. Now my time's my own
Every morning, out the garden gate
On some excursion. His peony's blown

We rubbed along in life as well as most
From youth to droopy drawers, both losing looks
Farewell to sweaty socks, to golfing weeks
Now I watch dancing fireflies, read my books

Age has the last laugh, no more boozy friends
Ta ta to groping Nigel, boring Fred
The last sweet rose of summer is the wife's
Please note, I've gone away Brian's brother Ned



Lost in translation in the wedding vows
Love lives amongst the ruins old age
But after? I'm no Queen Victoria
The pale fire ofmy Pierrot's off the stage

What was he like, my Brian? Nothing grand
But for a while on earth he held my hand