Last Call To Auntie Ivy Poem by Gil T

In loving memory of Ivy Marsden (Nov 1914 - Mar 2010)


I phoned you, Auntie Ivy, 'cause I knew you'd not been well,
But would you see a doctor? would you hell!
Though I loved you to bits, you were as stubborn as it gets;
I was just wasting my breath, the truth to tell.

You were far too independent for a woman of your years
And you needed much more help than you would own;
But you didn't like imposing on the ones who held you dear,
And I think you spent too many hours alone.

Still I'm glad I rang you up and we had one final chat,
Even though I couldn't make you change your mind.
You asked about the family and I put you straight on that,
I reassured you we're all doing fine.

Yet there was something wrong I couldn't put my finger on,
Although now I understand it - with hindsight:
Because from the way you spoke, even though we shared a joke,
I believe that you had given up the fight.
You were such a grand old girl, but you'd grown weary of the world....
Now you've gone gentle into that Goodnight.