Memories

In the kitchen
There is a white ceramic sink
Little chromed taps sit above it
One of which drips slow and steady

In the kitchen
There is a wood burning stove
Filling this room with warmth and aromas
Roastings and fryings and bakings and boilings

In the kitchen
Is a larder with a creaking door
Full of favoured vittals
Awaiting their turn at the stove
And a wooden box of fresh baked bread

In the kitchen
Is an old chipped and notched pine table
Two pine spindle chair of similar repute
Where we used to sit and eat

In the kitchen
Was a wonderful woman
A carving knife
An indelible stain
Crimson stain
Crimson sink
Crimson chair
Crimson footprints

I huddle down
In my cardboard bed
On this forgotten waste ground
And wash away my guilty tears
With cheap cider
For another night