Each and every day, Lizzie opens up a can,
Of tasty Salmon cat food for her beloved tabby Dan,
She's lived alone since Harry died, a victim of world war two,
Neighbours live at either side, but she's no idea who,
She remembers in the olden days, when people cared for one another,
Her many years, devoted carer for her father then her mother,
Her memory is not the same, a symptom of old age,
Each day in her past is just another page,
Everyday she takes her pills, the doctor says they'll cure her ills,
Red are for her heart and blood thinners they are green,
Complicated names but who knows what they mean?
Balsam for her chest, pink cream for her itch,
If someone made a pill for loneliness, they would be very rich,
A shadow on the window, a knock upon the door,
Dan's curled up on Lizzie's knee, but jumps down to the floor,
Cautiously she peeks out through the yellowed lace curtain,
She thinks she spies a relative, but she cannot be certain,
The chain is on the door, the door it is ajar,
Maybe it's a nephew visiting from afar?
“Hello there, can we come in to talk about your faith”?
She tells them “I’m an atheist” then slams the door with haste
Lizzie is alone in a world where no-one cares,
She's clutching several bottles as she makes her way upstairs
She walks into the bedroom, Dan is curled up on her bed,
Then lines up all her pills and gently shakes her head
She looks down at her wrinkled hands, and remembers them as in her youth,
Each line on her face tells a story, only she can see the truth,
As she looks in her full-length mirror, she's dismayed that her figure has gone,
Once an English rose, Oh where has the time gone?
She hears a sudden noise and Dan jumps down and hides
“Harry is waiting for you”, a soothing voice confides,
Lizzie feels at peace and she begins to smile
She brushes through her silver locks in their old familiar style
She reclines upon the bed ,all she can do is wait
She thinks of her true love Harry as he waits at Heaven's Gate
Will he still be debonair with sparkling eyes of blue?
The only man she'd ever loved, to whom she'd never said “I do”,
The wait was short and there he was, St Peter at his side,
Lizzie felt at peace and very gently sighed
Harry took her hand and through the gates they went
Lizzie was now free of a life of discontent
Her story has a moral, time is not ours to waste
Live life to the full because time can never be retraced.
