On the red couch there sits
A flame red lipstick woman
Reading old newspapers
Of crimes unforgiven.
And it is too late now
No one left to forgive
They’re all dead and buried
In the time that she lives.
But their lives make good stories
If you read them, not live them
And they keep living on
Through attention you give them
But the room’s getting cold
As the flames fade away
It’s a shame paper burns
Like the Sun at midday
A Life in Poems 