the vanished

The Vanished

I sat in a corner café minding my own business
when a girl of four came over tapped me on my
knee offered me a boiled sweet. Took it but didn’t
eat it in case she wanted it back; told me her age
and name, asked how old I was. Hundred, I said;
she looked blank a digit too big for her to get,
changed it to fifty she wasn’t awed wanted her
sweet back. Sucked on it, felt sorry for me ‘cause
she said I look sad, took the sweet out of her mouth
gave it back Her mum came over, frowned at me
dragged her daughter away and said: “I told you not
to talk to strangers?” Later that same day her parents
left her alone in a hotel room, to go out for drinks,
she vanished, and hasn’t been seen again; her name
was and, who knows? Still is, Madeleine.