That drab civic room,
where we had voted,
here the Parkinson’s
support group met:
a chesty (badged) lady
offered us coffee,
pamphlets were handed,
flicked, to be kept.
A clipboard was passed,
to take names and numbers,
and to indicate interest
in meeting again:
My wife bent down,
plundering her handbag,
pulling out a tissue,
here the ending begins.