Gina my cousin
She was the type who would never die
Had always been there,
All grown up when I was still a child.
Laughing, teasing, bringing me toys and sweeties,
Flirting with my daddy
Taking his arm as he walked her to the station.
She would burst in every Saturday
Her voice like sunflowers and daffodils,
Smelling like oranges and strawberries,
The way they do when you're a child.
That was back then.
Later she'd had two husbands and two children
But was destined to be alone.
She sent me a letter,
They always send a letter just before they die.
Her letter said,
No more laughter, just loneliness and tiredness and the need to cry.
She was the type who would never die,
But one summer day,
Full of sparkling shadows and glowing leaves,
Gina passed away.
The sun had slipped behind a cloud in the tragic sky,
Then part of my life,
Who I am