Myra

This is an extremely special poem for me. I wrote this on 7th January 2002 in memory of an absolutely inspirational lady called Myra who was in The Waterfront Writers in Plymouth (my first ever writers group) - this was the day after she sadly passed away. I'll never forget her, so Myra, if you're around, here it is for you in print:

Myra:

Her spirit's around us -
This Wil O' The Wisp called Myra.
Now in a better place than before -
Somewhere where she is happy and at peace.
Her brilliant mind lives on -
Once full with vivid imagination,
Like a child she'd play with words.
Her humour varied from dry
To sarcastic and pure raunch!
Memories from the war fill the page
Along with stories of far away lands.
Full of magic, her pen created
A land of her own to escape to.
Tales of Aladdin's Magician
And floppy disks with dirty limericks
Would fill us with excitement -
Taking us back to our childhood
And at the same time
Teaching us new things in life.

Do you know she was a theatre addict?
Every week a theatre trip was
Always on the cards.
Ranging from Shakespeare to modern,
She was always in the front row.
Her recognisable laughter rang out
In the aisles and gallery.
Always making me feel safe
Whenever I wanted help.
Through her beautiful charm,
She became my second grandmother.
We chatted about everything
From the moon to the universe -
And all the time she had
A naughty twinkle in her eye.
Her soul is among the stars now -
She's safe where she is - never lonely.
Wherever you may be Myra,
You're a star in your own right.
Rest in peace and God Bless.