She was a joyless woman
Never seen to smile
Enjoy a joke
Show any sign of playfulness
No one knew from whence she came
She’d always lived in the small terraced house
Its windows clad in thick net curtains
Front door always closed
Looking like it never opened
She was seen rarely
Her shuffling gait crossing the road
And disappearing down the maze of streets and houses
The seasons meant nothing to her
No glitter or sparkle at Christmas
No sign of joy in Spring and Summer
And many thought she hibernated in winter
No husband was ever known
No family called at the cold front door
Locked as always and loveless
Sometimes a light would be seen at an upstairs window
The curtains twitching
As glassy eyed
She peered down the street
Whilst not often seen
She was, however, part of our street
Our history
And our working-class families
When not seen for many weeks
We pondered and kept a distant watch
Time passed
Turning to months
And still no sign of her small shuffling mysterious figure
When new folks arrived and settled in her house
We marvelled and were amazed
Suddenly new paint and bright cheerful curtains appeared
And smiling they joined our community
Enquiring where she’d gone
They knew nothing of her
The house was stripped bare
No sign of her ever living there
And so she’d gone
We never knew her or found out what happened
Gone just gone
A joyless woman
So sad in a joyless world
Norman Turkington
The Yorkshire Poet & Friends 