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