Two

The diagnosis half true, she smells the Limes, on a tree lined avenue, acts like she knows, the ties that bind, blows hard on her bones, hope holds you aloof, she knows that is right, except there's no clue, she won't be alone, in this cosy light, to break out the stones, but has to keep going, through cold evening night, when the kids phone in, she sits near the flue, it's not like a crime, for a fire to warm you, thinks she'll be fine, drink leads to ruin, it's just a strange time, to wonder if you're through?