December 2025
Lunchtime stories
We came here for lunch,
sat in the bay window,
the white tablecloth,
the leftovers on our plates.
Watching the rain fall steadily
on the garden, summer-green.
After the food you asked me
about working with the refugees
‘You must have heard some stories?’
Fragments, hints, glimpses.
One who asked me how to post a letter.
I told him how to buy an envelope and stamps.
He said he’d hidden in a freezer lorry,
running on the spot all night
just to stay alive.
Another asked why the doctor had given him a paper
and not pills. As I took him to the chemist
He told me he had walked across
the Sahara.
A woman asked me would I help her
buy a railway ticket. She had never travelled on a train.
She said ‘the men were distracted by another woman,
‘so, I ran, I had to.’
So much to understand.
We sat in silence
with the half-told stories
the white tablecloth,
the leftovers on our plates,
watching the rain fall steadily
on the garden, summer-green