single she is, no one’s wife,
happy with her solitary life

the rows of DVDs on shelves
old ceramic Christmas elves
memories of love displayed on tables & walls
a bed piled high with animals & dolls
fish swimming in their colourful tank
nestled by books in alphabetical rank

remotes on the coffee table in a military line
dust-free surfaces glowing in winter sunshine
window sills crammed with welcoming plants
wardrobes that house shoes, sweaters, pants
her favourite rooms have been freshly painted
& nothing in this space by hatred is tainted

middle-aged she is, no longer svelte
just handlin’ life, no matter what cards she’s dealt

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