Martin Robertson

Now and Then

Mariana in Miniature

She waited for him, waited.

He did not come.  She waited.

Unnoticed the formal garden

found itself as a jungle.

Round her the house grew old

slowly, quietly rotting,

dustily, gently flaking,

dropping to pieces round her.

She could not lift a finger

with all the time in the world.

“Oh God, I’m tired” she said.

“I wish I were dead.”