Labels written in a clear, neat hand, 
Our evidence held in little jars,
Daily I note and file away
Degradation of the samples left.
Of joy that shone like glitter paint
Smeared across our daughter’s face
It caught the light reflected from
Your sense of self-entitlement.
The pride I placed upon my head
To shout aloud your views expressed,
Keeping others in their place
With candour that made me weep 
The hope I once wore as a badge
Its edges rusted thin and sharp
To puncture change that might approach
It trailed its iron through my heart.
I loved you. Not well, but long
Now you slip and creep away,
You’re leaving me for someone young.
A fresh experiment begun. 

All Rights Reserved – Alicia Fitton 2019

Picture by Monicore