Mum

That year was a fateful one
I was separated from them
through my own needs and desires
apart from the ones I love

My time in France was troubled
an uneasy time with uneasy people
surrounding and overwhelming me
I had no emotional escape

Then, the dreadful call
and the quickly organised trip home
to see you lying in the hospital
so weak but strong enough for a smile
(about my red jumper)

You were allowed home to die
Your favourite music on the stereo
Your ever decreasing breath
visible to my eyes

I looked on as your body
grew weaker and more still
your pulse barely making a sign on your skin
then, it was over.

I miss you
I miss your chatter
I miss you
I miss your laughter
I miss you.

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