May God protect your home

I have walked past your house
most days of my life
I've seen you gardening,
washing your car,
putting bottles out for the milkman

one day I saw an ambulance
and was so relieved the next day
when you were out in the garden again
a trowel in your hand
your heart attack must have just been chest pains

and I felt happy to picture your face
when you were discharged, got back home
let yourself in and your house had never seemed so familiar.
You used to have a wife but she left
my mum told me once

like filling me in on a TV show
where I'd missed the first few series
but she'd been glued since episode 1.
You had a daughter too
but you don't seem to get visitors any more.

When I got a paper round
I suddenly had an excuse
to walk down the gravel pathway
and I would see you in your armchair watching Countdown
with a notepad to work out the numbers game.

Whenever I go back home to visit my mum and dad
you're still there, with a watering can and bags of compost.
Who'd have thought you'd outlive Richard Whitely.
I don't know if anyone's ever told you this
but your garden is beautiful.