Friday, 29 November 2013


You might forget the exact sound of her voice
Or how her face looked when sleeping.
You might forget the sound of her quiet weeping
Curled into the shape of a half moon,

When smaller than her self, she seemed already to be leaving
Before she left, when the blossom was on the trees
And the sun was out, and all seemed good in the world.
I held her hand and sang a song from when I was a girl -

Heil Ya Ho Boys, Let her go Boys
And when I stopped singing she had slipped away,
Already a slip of a girl again, skipping off,
Her heart light, her face almost smiling.

And what I didn't know or couldn't see then
Was that she hadn't really gone.
The dead don't go till you do, loved ones.
The dead are still here, holding our hands.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Robert. Good to see that you're still blogging. I've lost your email address - and assume your student account no longer exists - but wanted to thank you for the Christmas card. I found it in my pigeonhole this morning - a very nice surprise.

    I saw you at graduation in October, but unfortunately didn't get to say hello and offer you my congratulations. We both made it! Anyway, all the very best to you. Drop me a line sometime and let me know what you're doing.

    All best,