People

In Memory of Clare McPhee

Clare and I first met several years ago. Through many shared interests, we soon became close friends. She encouraged me to have a go at writing poetry by becoming a member of her poetry and stanza groups. Clare had the gift of seeing the link in things, not the gaps.

I wrote the following poem on 3rd April, the last time I saw her. Clare died on 7th April.

Sometimes you talk In unfinished sentences, Nodding to my questions, Showing interest But as if from afar No longer with concern Devoid of urgency

Sometimes there is a Flow of words, Unconnected, Before dwindling Into quiet mumbling, No sign of recognition When I leave

Sometimes you gaze at me For a long time Without turning Your eyes away Looking at something I cannot see

While nature is Heralding spring outside, New life, Yours is ebbing away In slow exhalation As you lie in this room That you will not Leave again And yet you're doing so Already, Coming and going

Still hours spent Sitting near you Missing you

You will always be Coming over the hill on the rec Waving enthusiastically With both arms Your dog ahead of you Greeting mine by the gate Before we set off Along the paths That you know Like no other

Ursel North

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