Each week I sit on the benches outside Morrisons waiting for my taxi home. While I wait, without fail, people come and sit next to me for a chat. I wrote this poem as I often have an hour before the taxi comes!

Morrisons Bench

I could sit here all day long

Watching people going by

I wonder where they’re going

What they do, and why…

There are so many people

Whose paths will never cross

Whilst they go about their business

And daily dose of dross

I wonder where she’s going

With her nose stuck in the air

Obviously, an important person to herself

But do people really care?

A little old man comes sits with me

And tells me of his life

Carers go in apparently

As he lost his beloved wife

I wonder if I’m the only one

Who he’s spoken to today

How long he’ll live with his broken heart

I hope I see him another day

Now Ron is here to annoy me

Roy is learning disabled

Not when he’s chatting to me he’s not!

Hes a cheeky sod enabled

I say “bugger off Ron, you’re boring me”

And he collapses in fits of laughter

Treated as any other human being

Hes happy ever after

The alcoholic in his usual seat

Asking for money for ‘food’

I offer him a Morrisons sandwich

He says “I aren’t eating that muck” (how rude)

My taxi arrives, and to the counselling seats

I wave them all goodbye

And wonder who the chats benefit the most

Is it them, or is it I?