I saw her in the supermarket queue
In front of me with just a basket
Held rigidly in cold, white fists,
A well dressed lady looking sad.
Just a box of cat food and a litre bottle
Of vodka nestled underneath.
She glanced at me, over her shoulder
And I smiled, probably the only smile
She’d seen all day.
I wondered how she’d got that sad,
Why was it allowed?
I worried what awaited her at home,
I knew that she would sit and drink and cry
And I wondered who was in command
And why they’d let her feel this way.