my own spirit
someone I knew
someone still close
has left
she floats
around my head
my sister lives
though cancer
stole her
from here
I went back
to our final bar
for a last wine
she speaks to me
sometimes I sit there
other times
I just look
through the stained panes
but she never
leaves
her crochet
on my sofa
colours surrounded
by black
if i sit at
that bench
i can glimpse
her hospice
through the glass
collect those shards