Robin Brumby
Whose Sorrow?
A pale young woman smartly dressed for town,
More trouser-suited to a seminar
Or carrying her briefcase down The Strand
Than trudging this rough towpath when the sun
Was bright above her and our passing barge,
For all in black she was, funereal,
With nothing bleaker than her sombre look.
Myself responding to her pain: or else,
My father having died just weeks before,
I took my grief and thrust it then on her.
More trouser-suited to a seminar
Or carrying her briefcase down The Strand
Than trudging this rough towpath when the sun
Was bright above her and our passing barge,
For all in black she was, funereal,
With nothing bleaker than her sombre look.
Myself responding to her pain: or else,
My father having died just weeks before,
I took my grief and thrust it then on her.
Page(s) 4
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