Last year, she was still here – But the end had begun. Through March and April, We were numb with disbelief, Denial, fear – But clinging, always, to hope. Through May and June, We rode the ups and downs – Hospital trips, Macmillan visits, Temperature spikes – Good days and bad. Talk of a memory box Was too much to bear, For she did not want To imagine herself As a memory. We didn’t either. July and August Tricked us into thinking Time was on our side – Barbecues, days out, Impromptu coffees, the Race for Life – Hopes raised, Scan results good. But oh! September – How you sprung from nowhere, Punched us hard in the gut And stole that illusion from us! Oh, the speed, the downward spiral, The force with which You slammed us against the wall, Day after day, As you hurtled us closer To what was becoming Inevitable, Inescapable. And now, you’re here again, Promising to most, Open fires, warm jumpers,