Holding Hands (Now with image and audio)

Holding Hands, dedicated to my sister Betty, was written as a poem three hours after she died in my arms. She died at 23.45 on 09/01/2004.
Six months later the tune came to me.




When small, I delighted in annoying Betty whenever I could.
She'd sit in a shady spot beneath my tree, with a book.
An easy target for me up above; Betty never understood
me then; often gave me that 'elder sister look.'
But she never went far away and that felt good.
I laughed; she jumped; when things on her I shook!
But if ever I showed I was scared, and quite unplanned,
Betty would come to me and hold my hand.

Five years my elder; at Lynchet Cottage a bedroom we shared.
Memories of frequent, huddled, and whispered conversations.
Of frogs in beds; wild chases; and of tempers flared.
A plethora of family days with hordes of our relations.
Green-eyed Betty; beautifully slim and auburn-haired.
When my nightmares struck, she'd look in consternation,
Cared enough to take the time, and quite unplanned,
Betty would come to me and hold my hand.

High days, holidays, time flew fast, shared moments, joys, tears, mirth;
Plymouth, memories flicker past, we grew, loved, wed, then gave birth.
Older, closer; how long did phone calls last? I know Betty'd understand;
I held her, as she died, quite unplanned; it was my turn to hold her hand.


** Audio Unavailable **