It's my mummy's birthday today

a hundred and fifteen to be precise

but now she's passed away. 

Nineteen years have gone and time is moving on

but I can see her as sharp as a pin

I know she must be looking in. 

 

She never wanted to let me go

but had no option that much is clear,

that was the future I suppose

but today the clouds have parted and like the crescent moon

her face looks down on me

with a mirrored shine,

 

so happy birthday I say to her

to bridge the fateful gap

a trivial matter to most no doubt

but for me no less divine.