There in her usual place,
Beside the doorstep of her dungeon home
Or a hole I should say,
That lies at the far end of the busy lane I lived in.
As Sun fell down and the stars came out,
And darkness swathed in a stride,
When men came home and children cried
Refusing their evening meals,
She would be there, with a made up look
And an accented tongue;
She must have been 20, I surmise…
Perhaps younger still.
There would be a few going to her:
A few for lust, fewer still for love;
Not unusual it seemed then, but things changed lately;
These days, she was not to be seen there,
There in her usual place.
Something, I don’t know what,
Made me curious - I wanted to know,
What had happened to her? I wanted to know.
People, rather dismissive of her, told me,
She had succumbed to illness;
“It was AIDS of course” - someone promptly added;
They were to burn her few belongings, for fear of a pandemic.
And among those consigned to the flames,
There was a worn out teddy bear………..