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