Like a scene from a film, in fuzzy monochrome, he sits by the window, but no-one sees.
Grey hair, grey suit, stiff collar and tie, he's going out, but no-one knows, and he eats alone, crumbly bread, and a bit of tasty cheese.
A crumb sticks to his lip, but no-one sees.
He's going out, but there's no-one
to say goodbye to an old man,
frail as a dry twig, carrying
cake and a flask,
carefully wrapped like treasure.
In the hospital, a regular visitor,
no-one notices this bearer of cake,
and love, sitting quietly,
holding the hand of his wife
whose mind has floated away.
Invisible, unrecognised he shares his cake, and no-one notices him leave.
Eileen Hudson, Rochdale, Greater Manchester