Sanctuary

Poet Girl’s red boots are in honour of her grandmother to whom we said a final goodbye today.
This is her tribute poem, read with great dignity at the funeral.

Tara
I thought that you were gone
until I heard you laughing yesterday
at a dirty joke in the pub.

I was starting to miss you,
but when I heard Corbyn condemn austerity this morning,
your smile was on my lips.

Sometimes when I write,
It’s your stories that fall onto my paper
(I’m sorry that it isn’t your dialect.)
Last Friday your energy kept me dancing until 5am.
Your stubbornness helps me to win arguments even when I know I’m wrong.
Your warmth will be in every hug I give.

So Grandma, I’ll say tara
but only for a bit.