Spring a year ago,

A time without snow,

When the poppies bloomed,

The clouds departed –

And you, heavenward,

Left – what a short word.

You enjoyed the birds,

And what songs you heard!

Ill, you’d grown yellow,

I’ll imagine the sun had made you so,

That, like a bird, you flew quite narrowly

Through the gates and were greeted with hello.

for my pop pop, who went to be with Jesus a year and a month ago