by Moya Roddy
I told myself you didn’t feel the cold,
out and about in tee shirts in all weathers.
When the rest of us were knee-high in fur boots,
I’d see you push the pram bare-legged in sandals.
You didn’t seem to own a decent coat,
bother much with bobble hats or scarves.
It never dawned on me until late one night,
to get a breath of air I pulled the curtains,
in time to see you running from your house,
hair flying, in nothing but a nightie.
You hadn’t even time to put on shoes.
This poem was published in Out of the Ordinary by Moya Roddy (Salmon Poetry 2018).