Who is that knock-a-knockin’ on the door?
It’s the bailiff come to even the score
What have we done to bring him here?
Cancer, old-age, divorce. See my tears?
Our children pack their bags and sob
“Mommy why are we leaving?” I am robbed
Their childhood is sliding away
But I can’t do much: we’re leaving today
D=day has come with an ominous boom
For two whole months tragedy has loomed.
I don’t even know where we’re going
Our nightmare is much worse for not knowing
The council says we’ve brought it on ourselves
But how can that be? Into my bank I delve
Ten pounds to pay the rent; not much
To pay for food, blankets and such
No husband and my mother has died
None of my friendships have survived
I’m by myself on this nasty case
The cracks as I lie down show on my face
What can a mother do but provide for her…
A knock on the door interrupts, “Hello, sir”
He holds his hand out-the keys
My life, my whole house, is theirs as they please
I have to be strong for my children again
Maybe someone has some money they’ll lend.
YOU ARE READING
Evicted
PoetryEvery day people are thrown out of their homes, sometimes because of circumstances that they can't control. This poem offers an insight into how some may feel.
