It was strange between you and I.
You forgot too easily what I have done and remembered too easily what I have forgotten.
We were different,
We were friends, of sorts, neighbours.
You wanted me to listen to your woes,
How your life was to be pitied, how your body was decaying, how your family was hard to love.
My child visited you, you took her out. In exchange she helped you wash up and wash clothes.
You baked – just one slice was allowed
Tea was private. We’re having our tea, come back later.
We’re having family stay. Come back later.
I looked after you when you were so old. Your family was not there.
I washed your body. Switched off your heaters. Made your sandwiches.
And still after over forty years of being neighbours I was foreigner
I was immigrant
But you still allowed me to care for you when your family were not there.
Not a thank you. Not a gift.