She’s glad the cleaner comes each week to natter

about this and that as she busies round the house –

mainly inconsequential stuff, but it’s a change from him
and a distraction from the pain of crumbling bones,

the heart attack, and a gut intolerant of pills.
Her Buddhist friends drop round for tea and a chat

when she can’t get to pujas, or – if she’s fit enough

to trundle her trolley out – take her for coffee and a cake. 
They always make her eyes conspicuously bright –

and the breaks give him some precious time to write.