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Maggie Filor 2014


Clouded Eyes

My heart has no time to hate,

To despise, loth or curse

For in all the people I’ve met,

All the souls I’ve carried away,

I’ve never met anyone,

Who didn’t need me to hold them

And help them and help them across the void

The Light Factory Gallery Cafe

She sees the dark interior of the café and hears the welcome chatter.

She smells the strong sent of coffee and feels the warmth of the fire.

She tastes the delicately sweet flavour of honey drizzled over duck and fig.

She smiles with pleasure and sips her coffee.

I was skipping around in the bright sun light chasing a ball when I saw her. She was sitting all alone at a small, dishevelled bus stop on the corner of York Street. She had looked confused, sad and lost, like she was looking for someone who was no more.

I crept over and laid down at her feet. She’d been holding a letter, crumpled and wet from the rain-like tears falling from clouded eyes.

I’d sat up slowly and softly nudged her old worn hands with my snout. Her hands had shook as she stroked my gentle fur. She’d knelt down and I put head on her hunched shoulder and she buried her face in my fur. The crumpled damp letter fell to the ground.

The bus drove up slowly and stopped in front of the bus stop. There was a pause, then a crackling, raspy voice came out of the speaker, “Are you getting in or what?” Slowly she pulled herself up and hobbled over to the bus. She climbed in and the doors slid shut behind her.

The bus started up and drove her away.

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