I have to be brave enough
Not to mind being forgotten
For most days.
To no longer be a card on a shelf
Or a phone call away
Letting others' days
Be their own
Unhindered by sorrows
Or sad memories
Or burdened by my wanting
To be carried around
Like a honoured trophy.
This has to be my last gift
A real gift of love
Which says be free
Of me and all that I was
Because your days
Are another time
And have their splendour.
Goodnight my dearest
Children, goodnight.


Love Mum, Mary