Poetry by Phoebe Legget

Passing

Nightfall, the end of time.

Life stopped, the world

Continued to turn

Without you.

You, no longer moving,

Or speaking. Not even

A second helping of the sweet

Could preserve you further.

There you lay, waiting

For that moment alone.

Whilst others raced the clock

On planes from afar.

But time waits for no-one,

And you did not linger.

You passed on in your sleep,

Just not calmly or gracefully,

But paralysed, confused, silent.

Frozen even before you went

Into your little garden plot.

It was not peaceful.

And you were missed,

By the family you held so dear.

Your ninety years were up,

Time waits for no-one.

Reflection

The sun’s rays are dying out,

A cluster of clouds sparkle in the light

As it fades and cast vibrant colours

Over the land which peak through

The curtains. The day is nearly done.

Night is slowly creeping up on me.

The air is still, my dog lies asleep

On her bed. There is no noise except

For the buzz of the TV where my parents

Sit and listen to the daily news.

Stories of Syria, Iraq, discontent in Parliament,

Russia, travel expenses and of course

Trump and fake news fill the air. The world

Is full of terror, hate and greed. It is always

The same, day after day. The depressing

Tone of these reports lingers around the house.

But today I shut it out. The night sky

Is calling to me. Above me the stars twinkle

And the moon shines brightly. I am reminded

Of a happier time. When I was little and

Heard no talk of unspeakable horrors. A time

When my mum would sing me to sleep with:

“Go to sleep my baby. Close your sleepy eyes.

The mother moon is watching, above the dark blue sky.”