A New Day

He wakes at five, thinks – still alive then –
but he can hardly move.
It hurts to stretch his legs
knees and ankles crack,
his back wont bend.
Frankie hobbles into town again
can’t think further
than a cup of tea. He’s pleased
with himself in a small way.
This is a start of a new day.

He sits on a bench,
watches the town wake up.
Deliveries to shops
suits off to work
shutters rattling open.
He sees a lass with a stall
and hangs around, she’s setting
an urn to boil:
Any chance of a free tea?
This’ll not be ready for awhile
then she smiles
Aye, gan on. She gives him
one pound fifty,
Greggs is open across the street.

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