The old dear across the road
always looks like she’s carrying a load
moans and grumbles all day long
waving her walking stick as she limps along

She talks to herself continuously
I’ve never seen anyone losing
an argument with themselves before
not that she’s keeping score

I was afraid to approach
on her territory to encroach
But she smiles at me
it transformed her whole demeanour

She had tears in her eyes
and a look of delighted surprise
She called me “John” and kissed my cheek
and said I hadn’t visited all week

She bought me home and made me tea
hadn’t a biccie to give me
I didn’t know who John was
and she often talks without a pause

My name is Steven
now, once a week i visit
always greeted with a kiss on the cheek
for that day I’m “John”
her one and only beloved son