far away in southern Devon
as the crow flies to the sea
where white crested waves are rolling
where green hills are gently rising
where thick red clay cakes the wet boot
in a graveyard lies my father
with a wish to speak to me
‘close your eyes your heart will guide you
do not pine for long lost loved ones
do not wish me back to find you
with your grey eyes sadly misted
in a world i don’t remember
nurture all who struggle daily
in your living family
stand beside your little sister
as you did when you were children
when her tears spilled out in sorrow
when her knees were grazed and bleeding
take her hand and lead her forward
through her darkest days of grieving
serving her you do so me’