Sign up to our newsletter
All you see is outside me: my painted smile,the rosy-posy shell, the fluttery eyes.A butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth-type me
Next door live three old ladies. They’re sisters, well into their eighties, but to us kids, they seem beyond time.
The phone ringsBut never long enoughFor the Slow Man.
By the timeThe set’s switched onHis favourite programme’s over.