An Ex Pub Clock

When you went from this dimension
you left behind
a council , toilet extension .
where you did reside ,
all alone
in this so called home
I couldn't abide ,
it had this dull , drone of sombre tone
now worse that you've died .
  .
A plate on the wall
the poem true in it , not tall .
A china cabinet
with whatever you'd find
to put in it ,
with gold painted , hand decorated ,
aesthetic swirls  
all rebated and glass plated  
from the eastern world ,
a jewellery box
a couple of , ex pub clocks
and a few , fake pearls .

Chairs of orange
that glared
sitting short changed ,
at the Constable copy
fake golden framed
askew and stained  .
about ready for dropping .

An old side board
where images of yesterday were stored ,
a pension book
impossible to cook ,
a bus pass ,
donated garden grass .
and a musical , pianist girl ,
you twisted her so she played
a turning of sad twirl ,
this is what I'm sad to say
is left of my grandmothers
world .