In memory of Nan
Poems of the past circa 1995
Saturday 15th April 1995. My mother rang.
How strange that the signs of Easter are all around
Bright Yellow chicks and creamy white fluffy furry bunnies!
Girls park Easter bonnets on their bonces and boys,
Well, they are just the same as ever.
Good Friday is gone. Resurrection Sunday is yet to come.
Pain is past and joy will abound shortly, surely?
Lily, a flower of much renown.
Hardy, perennial and yet lush
Vibrant beneath the Sun.
No more Spring for you, alas.
The bulb will not awaken again.
Sleep and rest in an Ever-Saturday-in-between.
Rest in peace and know many bulbs have come of thee.
They now race to catch the Light!
So many differing faced petals:
Some small, some large! Some Bright and some pastel shaded!
But all linked to that original
Lily.
Maybe one day, the Good gardener, on the Sunday
Of new life and hope; maybe He will transplant your bulb
By the side of Living and immortal waters that will
Breathe Eternity into your roots.
But now, lie beneath the earth, rest and wait.