The meals on wheels van arrives at ten past noon.
Bang, bang, bang on the door.
She can’t hear you, she’s deaf,
she’ll be in the back.
He goes through the side gate,
comes back in a few moments, drives off.
She’ll be out in a minute.
At twenty past noon she appears,
plastic plate of hot charity in hand.
Here she comes.
She crosses the road,
leans over the fence and pats an old dog,
drops the container on the grass.
Every day she feeds that old thing,
it’s the only time she goes out.
She picks up the empty tray,
pats the dog’s head,
crosses back over the road
and disappears through the gate.
Silly old biddy.
Next day,
the meals on wheels man arrives at ten past noon,
bang, bang, bang on the door.
She can’t hear you, she’s deaf,
she’ll be in the back.
He goes through the gate,
two seconds later he runs
to the van, grabs his phone,
goes back through the gate.
At twenty past noon, an ambulance arrives.
That’ll give them something to talk about.
