The Last One

A bright sunny church
with soaring rafters,
vast windows, unlike
Ada’s childhood church
did not lighten her desolation.
Outside traffic roared through
the busy suburb evolved
from the beach side village
to which Ada had retired
after her husband’s death
nearly thirty years before.

In several pews sat the senior
citizens’ club, so young to be retired.
Those Ada had first known
in that little village now were
all laid in the cemetery.
Only Rosie and Ada had been left
to ring each other every morning –
“I am well …. how are you ?”

Now Rosie’s children, grandchildren,
filled more pews to farewell her.
Ada had no children, only
a few relatives scattered
around the country.
Who would come to Ada’s funeral ?
More parishioners filed in,
young and middle aged.

Ada sat in the back pew,
in a foreign land,
her own country folk gone.
So many vacant birthdays
and anniversaries of people
no longer there to inhabit them.

Only their ghosts
surrounded Ada.

Previously posted March 2016.

The Last One