On 5 October 2005, my mother passed away. Shortly afterwards, I wrote a poem about her. Each year since, I’ve published the poem in the local newspaper, around the time of her anniversary. A small gesture to let her know that she’s not forgotten.

And here it is.

Gone Home Again

A Sunday dinner, then tea and cake,
Ties that bind and cannot break.
A story told, a laugh or smile,
Or gentle silence for a while.
A special gift, now and then.
Now she has gone home again.


Someone to talk to any day,
Someone to help in any way.
A warm fire on a winter night,
An ice-cold drink in summer bright.
A sturdy coat for the pouring rain.
Now she has gone home again.


An emptiness is left behind,
Lost things you will never find.
But a memory of what she’d say
Helps you through another day.
Away from us, down the lane,
On her way back home again.

(c) Pádraig Hanratty 2016

Sometimes you never find again what you’ve lost. But at least you still have the memories as each year passes.

Image copyright: Padraig Hanratty




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