Who is that lady

in the mauve felt

hat telling me

that the arsonist

who set her house

alight, is like

all of us

searching for happiness

but he will find more

grief than happiness

she says

without rancour

and we view her

coffee cup blue

on a saucer

in the front room

she was sitting

in, unable to sleep

and so still alive.

They’ve arrested

a thirty-seven year

old they tell us

searching for happiness

can be hazardous.

(I wrote this poem several years ago after watching a Sunday evening news item on the telly about a woman from Gore who had survived an arson attack).