MRS MANSELL

MRS MANSELL

I knew a little old Lady once,

She walked slowly, over her frame bent.

A quiet and timid soul,

And very insignificant.

I never saw any family

Nobody ever passed by,

The postman and the milkman, yes

But they didn’t stop to say ‘hi’.

She had to go to hospital once,

And left a neighbour with her key,

That was for him to feed the cat,

But, his friend went and stole her TV.

That was when her cat went missing,

He must have frightened it away,

She shook its food at the door every night,

Though it’s been gone for many a day.

She watched the world from her window,

Peering through the long hanging nets.

She occasionally scattered bread for the birds,

And talked to them, like they were her pets.

She’d put on her best coat on a Sunday

And walked down the long hill to attend mass.

She should have waited to catch the bus,

But she’d forgotten where she’d put her free pass.

Then one day Mrs Mansell disappeared,

This old lady, her life was no more.

Even more sad than nobody caring about her,

Was the sight of her cat sat at the front door.

There are so many Mrs Mansells in our world,

In every street there’s one who we know.

Wouldn’t it be nice just to ask how they are?

I’m sure they’d love to hear your “Hello”

Phil Hall  April 2013