Friendship

She trudged to the nearest town every Sunday
To buy a paper she read to dissolve each weary day.
The day she didn’t appear when the clock struck eight
The old woman at the boutique scowled till it was midnight.

They said that the two women were attached
By the weedy chains of long widowhood.
The latter could brave the absence of her “lady” only till the second week
But groaned and moaned on the third to make herself very weak.

She stood by the stile and glared at the white flag
Dangling from the rafter jutting towards the bare crag.
Then she staggered across the leafy garden hugging the three weeklies
And placed them on the mound- a wreath of lilies.