WAITING
There must very few who do not wish for one more chance to speak to those they have loved and lost. I wrote this poem shortly after my Dad’s death when I was desperate to feel him near, to believe he had not really left me. A year on I fear he is really gone. He often said he would let me know he was ok but we didn’t work out how! Maybe he has tried and I just haven’t noticed. WAITING I have asked for a sign; too late to arrange one with you in person. Had I known your heart would stop so suddenly I would have spoken sooner, thought of some plan, some way for you to let me know that you are ok, wherever you are. Instead I am wandering, lost and afraid like the child you made feel safe. Still prone to stinging tears, welling and spilling down my face. Unexpected grief, when the bank cut up your cards or I cancelled your milk; on the train back from Wales, as commuters tried...