Spring Storm

Today my Gran died.

People shouldn’t be allowed to die

in Spring.

It’s meant to be a time

for new life;

buds,

and blossoms,

and babies.

Not death,

and sadness,

and saying goodbye.

I’m glad

the storm clouds

are gathering now.

Sun

and warmth

feel wrong today

somehow.

Gran loved

Spring.

It was her

favourite

season.

She should

be here.

Watching

the flowers bloom,

watching me grow.

Digging

in her garden.

Planting seeds,

pulling weeds.

Picking flowers

and

tucking them

behind our ears.

Humming

alongside the bees.

Tracing the flight

of a butterfly

with her finger.

How is the rest

of the world

carrying on

like nothing

has happened?

They’re still

moving,

but I have

stopped.

There’s just stillness.

All I can hear

is her voice.

You are Spring,

my girl.

The bud

and blossom

of my life.

The storm

approaches,

but I am strong.

I am ready.

Goodbye, Gran.