The Lady

She lay in that

bed. Around the

corner birds chirped,

while kids played in

left over cool coal

piles.  Yet she lay

there with yellow sheets,

caressing spoilt splitting

pillows:  so far removed

from the Brock Candy Company

with its frozen freezers.

"I'm always so cold," she

would say, stay.  She lay

there, smiled at us kids

dirty from the dark cool

coal and left us then.