Maureen (Poetry)

A phonetic form of the Irish name Mairin, meaning ‘Little Mary’

When I see irises I think of her
their glowing shades like heaven’s purple-blue
and crowned with gold sun-picked from Spring’s bright days
when hopes grow high and all is green and new

And church reminds me with its calming hush
of her belief — how steadfast to the end
that quiet contemplation never failed
her god remained unshakeably her friend

Those lights of home warm lamps around the room
soft with comfort — gentle with each gleam
they were her choice — their colours match the mood
of harmony’s reflective, peaceful theme

Her passion for the crossword like a vice
addiction teased each cryptic clue to link
she worked each puzzle neatly and precise
then penned it squarely down with turquoise ink

A daughter, sister, wife and mother too
a friend to many — filling every rôle
played in life’s theatre — seeing through
each part until the closing credits scroll

At last the hospital: the hand of fate
accepted so undaunted and serene
loose ends tied up complete with choice of hymns
she slept. And kindness switched off her machine