My Santiago

A bleak day, thin searing air, Winter’s solstice; Her voice was glad to see me, And yet, it was puzzled. A question this time, “Michael?” Not comprehending his departure, and ( My arrival)

After 62 years, Together!

Absence of sadness, Impossibly joined with palpable pain, Perhaps the irony of Too much grief – even - for tears? Perhaps, a relief!

Yes, It was her voice that – always - held me!

And still does today!