Ennui - 2

There was a time when I was free and smiled

To see him easing down the street to visit,

Flowers in hand, a tiny moment stolen

On his way back to his digs in Seven Dials.

But now I am no different from these birds

Trapped under glass, as dead as any rat

Swept out with last night's ash, casual relics

Of a glittering past, their song long since unheard.

Each night he sits, and even when we eat

He says no more to me than 'Pass the salt'

And for the rest, I might as well not be

My life reduced to keeping his house neat.

          If once we loved, when did it fade away

          Into this silence, and this endless day?

Brian Hick (on seeing a silent couple eating out)

©copyright Sally Hick 21.10.22

 Ennui - 1

He sits where he has always sat each night

A pint of beer - hallf-empty and half-full -

A box of matches and a cigarette

Staring into space, caught in a light

Which pins his shadow to the chest of draws

Its brown weight stolid as his crumpled suite

And the fading patterns on his table cloth.

His mind, as ever, in rapt attention pours

Over the mintiae of his day and sets

In order all the non-events which click

Into their places alongside the meals

Which are always there, in case he frets.

          Life revolves round breakfast time and tea

          With everything in place, as it should be.

Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick 19.10.22