cancer
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She had a beautiful mother, serene in a sepia photograph who cried over every debt; her father was happy-go-lucky, a charmer and very bright; a Methodist grandfather killed himself; her grandmother’s hair grew down to her knees. Cycling the three miles to grammar school in a uniform sizes too large with a second-hand hockey stick
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When I came to say good-bye that night, Already you were drifting off Beyond the realms of speech and sight Or any common sight. Your cough At last was silent; eyes half-closed, Unseeing, yet I knew you heard, Felt my kiss, without a word Consented to let go. I dozed, And slept for half an
Virginia Rounding: Author, editor, proofreader, indexer 