The following four poems are expressions of grief after the death of Brian's father.

Garsington

She said she liked the colour of the car;

He joked my waistcoat was a nicer hue;

We passed pleasantries then went our own ways

And all the time, of course, they never knew

That half my mind was locked back in Redhill

And a chapel room, where he has lain

For two days now, awaiting Monday's hearse.

When last I sat upon his counter-pain

And held his hand, there was a sort of link

But now I stand embarrased by the lack

Of ritual response or mumbled prayer

Which might take off the edge of death's cold fact.

          It's cliched that we die alone, but here

          My loneliness seems far too much to bear.

Brain Hick 23.6.09

©copyright Sally Hick 17.6.22