I’m sorry that the universe, the second law,
That entropy, that time, all work this way.
The world’s so wonderful, but has this flaw,
We have so short a time and cannot stay.
I’m sorry that she lost the last of life
Sunk in dementia, that’s no way to end.
As well as mother, grandma, daughter, wife,
She was your teacher, and she was your friend.
So grief means living on without her, with a hole
Where her reactions ought to be to all that’s new.
You can’t show her the book, you’ve lost that goal,
You’ll never be surprised at what she’ll do.
But all of us should live for centuries
In all our glorious strength and power, like trees.
22nd November 2013. (For Marissa Lingen.)