wow mom!

mom called me this morning
Granma' died, 10 to 6 at 92
smaller than a child, she cried

a week earlier she'd said
'dress me in my best dress
lay me ready for my trip

put my ashes in the same urn
after I burn, no funeral for me
my husband, I go to see'

I recalled seven years before
when Granpa' was in the back ward
his memories unravelling with pain

he told of the long day 'n night
he crossed the White Horse plain
through bush n' snow to see her again --

their legacy of seventy years
in the embrace of this now empty space
their words of tender sweetness
whisper silently of undying love