Skipping back in time to day six prompt, saying good bye to what I know about Thatcher, mainly gleaned from facebook and my dad….
She was somebody’s mother, somebody’s mother,
she was somebody’s wife, and somebody somewhere is mourning;
jubilant my father lifts a pint in a pub and drinks.
Technology is failing us in Piccadilly gardens,
we run to make the next Bury line tram,
Going to hospital, hospital, where somebody’s mother is.
maybe she has passed her spirit into my phone, Sara says
her phone is dead and Margaret, Thatcher are you in there?
she whispers to the black screen, Thatcherrr.
the tedium of hospitals and the tedium of waiting,
my dad orders another pint, an ale, a real ale
and we’re running, running, we’re running to make the tram.