Crystal Set Dreams

Curtains

The way he drew the curtains irked you so,
His magazines left on the seats of chairs,
His bubbling pipe, the broken mouse-turd trail
Of dried hard mud from his boots up the stairs,

His cough before he spoke and those old lines
"Well worse things happen at sea", "Fair doos!"
And "Cheer up, you're a long time dead!".
But now as you Oxfam his clothes and shoes,

Those Christmas ties he never wore,
And bin "his comics" and his tarry pipes,
What would you give to find those shards of mud,
The morning curtains hanging "just not right"

A chip of cough from somewhere in the house
Before "Love have you seen my....?"