And Humour is the Saddest Thing to Go
 
I miss the witty banter, to and fro,
as consonants are lost and hearing fails,
and humour is the saddest thing to go.
 
The children in their car seats do not know
I cannot hear the story of their days –
I miss that precious chatter, to and fro.
 
I meet with friends and struggle not to show
how little now I hear their funny tales,
and humour is the saddest thing to go.
 
My adult children meet, but I forego     
the chance to hear them chat about their lives –            
I miss their easy patter, to and fro

Theatre, stand-up, repartee’s quick flow
all meaningless, a Babel tower of noise,
and humour is the saddest thing to go.
 
I study faces, lip read, hope lines slow
so I can act my part within their plays –
I miss the human drama, to and fro,
and humour is the saddest thing to go.

Helen Hall

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Helen Hall would be pleased to hear them