How she did it.
Nobody would have guessed in her pink apron, singing along to the beatles in her kitchen going about her business.
Little pots with dates on for when they’d go.
Bad, or worse if you’d know the smell,
but she’d put them in bin bags a bit at a time.
They wouldn’t know her secret crime.
Walls of face cream with real faces in.
Hand cream, foot balm, massage oil.
Even eye drops,
so many you could pick your own colour.
She was a good cook though.
She put heart and soul into her dishes and her steak and kidney pies, well.
They were to die for.
©G.P Williamson 2017