We sat before a low-banked fire on our first date
for more than seven hours, entwined, and talking late.
At four a.m. we left, each to a sep’rate bed.
The ambulance has come, and Juliet lies dead
But in her memory, I will choose joy to celebrate.

We always sat together: Rather legislate
no gravity than vain attempts to separate
us two - we'd change the seats to suit ourselves instead
The ambulance has come, and Juliet lies dead
But in her memory, I will choose joy to celebrate.

You squeezed my hand in pain. I sat and came to hate
the time it took until the torment might abate.
But you would say my absence was your only dread.
The ambulance has come, and Juliet lies dead
But in her memory, I will choose joy to celebrate.

Our anniversary: we sat to eat, to wait
and toast our forty-one short years, to dedicate
once more the vows we made, and kept, the day we wed
The ambulance has come, and Juliet lies dead
But in her memory, I will choose joy to celebrate.

I dressed her, helped her sit, my hand to hold her straight
and steady for an ambulance dispatched at eight-
fifteen. Too late. Her heart has stopped, her life has fled.
The ambulance has come, and Juliet lies dead
But in her memory, I will choose joy to celebrate.
 

                                   20 May 2024