THE OLD HOTEL

It was past midnight, the guests were asleep,

Silently they moved, the fridge door gave a squeak.

 

Silently they hungered, in both pleasure and pain

Eyes looked longingly, hands reached out in vain.

 

Thoughts turned to times when food was real

A taste in your mouth that you could feel.

 

The old hotel was quiet but all the walls knew

All of the guests and who passed through.

 

Names in reception, brollies in the hall

Just one member of staff on call.

 

Cheese in the fridge, mature not old

Tea leaves in the pot, the future foretold.

 

Who was it who opened the fridge door at night

Who was it who hungered with eyes alight.

 

Milk in the fridge fresh from the store

Bacon and hams and pastries and more.

 

These midnight walkers could not touch

Sad at heart they knew too much.

 

The old hotel settled down for the night

Reliving the cries, the suffering and plight.

 

The fridge door closed, they shuffled away

Back to darkness on another new day.

 

The hotel guests had started to wake

To a hotel breakfast fit to partake.

 

Silently they drifted into the night

As the old hotel turned its face to the light.

 

The day was beginning the hotel relaxed

Tonight again it would remember its past.

 

Guests on the staircase, taxi to the station

The hotel looked splendid with its fresh decoration

 

No longer the workhouse where lost souls cried

No permanent residents who starved and died.

 

Carol Starkey