Her eyes always brightened,

When I visited her mother’s bedside.

Back straight, legs kicking,

As little parts of Mum departed daily.

The blue eyes turned to Mum,

And lingered on new things to see:

Grey light playing on hollowing cheeks,

And a new central line.

The round turned into less about Mum,

But her girl,

Finding her ice cream and textas

As Mum departs.

They called it a teachable moment

But the only thing I learned,

Was that Netflix, ice cream and turkeys

Made out of hospital gloves,

Won’t stop shoulders slumping, or songs muting,

As Mum departs.