Unknown (Poetry)

All over in a drunken stumble
such bad luck
to fall like that and crack
his head — go down
and not get up again
ever.

We never knew him or
his name
the neighbour who
lived down below
on the ground floor —
the flat where no one
ends up living long.

They came today
to empty out
the premises —
collect all that
remained of him —
his furniture
and bric a brac
clothes bedding
every scrap
gathered up and
tossed into
a van.

Three men
a woman and
two kids
made up the team
no nonsense
just a job
somebody had to do
and it didn’t
take them long
to tidy one
sad life away.

He was a loner
that was true
no visitors
no milk of human
kindness
flooded through
his troubled daze.

He came and
now he’s gone —
story over
he stayed unknown
so it’s strange how
a sense of him
lingers on.