WordsOut poems by Godfrey Rust  | collection Welcome To The Real World ← 40 of 59 →   Occasional pieces for St Johns ← → | home    

Maureen
for Maureen Toley

She left without fuss
in the greenness of June. 

Lads at pub tables
kept mobiles to their ears; girls 

downed their glasses of white wine;
kids prepared to leave schools, mums  

juggled wants and needs, as they
have always done; middle-aged men  

stared into their beers, thinking
they had almost grasped something— 

and passed by the church where she was known,
unaware that an old woman had left 

faith like the evening sunlight,
hope like the extravagant green trees 

and love like a slow wick in tallow
burning in a thousand hearts.