Step Back by D.D.

This is where I start.
Where I am now.
And work my way gently back.
I live alone.
I sit with a cat on my lap
and another at my side playing with a piece of discarded poetry. The phone won’t ring, it is never switched on.
The only words I will speak today , will be to them.
One step back.
I had a husband and a home in the country.
We had cats, ponies, goats, dogs, and chickens from a poultry farm. A sanctuary, a home for those who needed one.
We had the same dreams for the future.
This was for life.
I was wrong.
Twenty years together, my husband left.
He walked out of the door and didn’t look back.
Both my beloved parents had died.
I was completely alone, for the first time in my life.
A small step back
A fairy-tale wedding.
I walked up the aisle to Greensleeves.
Step back to University.
and proud parents of an only child.
Myself, nervous , away from home for the first time.
Then in walked a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. It was love at first sight, we were together for 4 years. It ended when we graduated.
Step back to High school.
There were the fashionable girls.
I wasn’t one of them
I didn’t fit the criteria.
Teachers liked my writing though.
Poems and an article in the school Yearbook. Those girls laughed at me
Humiliated, I didn’t want to write anything again.
Step back to Junior school.
The fourth school by the age of nine.
The new girl again.
Then in walked my best friend , taking me by the hand. We were inseparable from that first moment .
The excitement and laughter was never ending.

Each day with her was a magical adventure.
We were separated by the 11 plus.
My best friend went to one school, and I went to another.
A small step back to Primary school.
St John’s Church, Stafford.
No-one could pronounce my Welsh name. It made me feel shy.
I remember walking to assembly holding hands with a boy. Hopscotch, headstands, and outside brick toilets.
I was made to eat meat at dinner times.
It made me very ill.
That was then.
This is where I am now.
I live alone.
I sit with a cat on my lap
and another at my side playing with a piece of discarded poetry.

© all rights reserved by the author D.D.