My Mother and Father died some years ago
I loved them very much.
When they died my love for them
did not vanish or fade away.
It stayed just about the same,
only a sadder colour.
And I can feel their love for me,
same as it ever was.

Nowadays, in good times or bad,
I sometimes ask my Mother and Father
to walk beside me or to sit with me
so we can talk together
or be silent.

They always come to me.
I talk to them and listen to them
and think I hear them talk to me.
It’s very simple –
nothing to do with spiritualism
or religion or mumbo jumbo.

It is imaginary. It is real. It is love.

“Death is Smaller Than I Thought” by Adrian Mitchell, from In Person: 30 Poets