She flung her cigarette
Into the fireplace,
Then tried to heat her hands,
It was a miserable fire ablaze.

The turf was barely dry,
It floundered about the fireplace,
But it was the only turf left, and
She'd not dare turn on the oil heating.

She sat sadly in the sitting room,
The ceiling was collapsing and
The walls were caving in,
At least
The wallpaper is still nice,
thought she.

She remembered when she had bought it -
The sunflower pattern wallpaper sheets
Brightened up the room and all in it.

And now,
That it was just her,
Why did
the house
feel so
small?


-Jamie F. Nugent