I miss you, mum.

I can reproduce the sound of your voice in my head,

As I walk, you talk; I imagine your smile.

And though you are no longer sharing this air,

It smells sweet, and reminds me of you.  

When a pleasing thought that occurs to me

Is something that we should have shared,

Though it brings me such a breathless ache,

Fighting its grasp makes me feel more alive.  

A spooky connection through the universe often 

connected us in thought, before joining us digitally. 

But you’re not on the end of a telephone, now. 

What I need to tell you, instead I must write.  

Your thoughtful listening and lack of ego

Allowed many to seek your kind comfort 

And your earnest countenance made all the greater

the pleasure of a shared joke with you.  

My proudest or most exciting moments 

are ones that I can only tell one parent now

I yearn to tell each tale again, anticipating your thoughts, 

but my cheerleading squad is depleted.  

Our time with you was all too short.  

“Well, I’d better let you go”, you would say. 

But you are much more than a memory – you are still here, 

and witness to a thousand tiny moments of my joy.