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.