Mum (Rosa)
''The weeds grow on, now the gardener has gone,
and I won't be home for the season."
Mum, these are lines from a song I wrote about not being able to spend Christmas in Dorset visiting you any more, now that you have passed away. You always took such great care of the house and garden. Now, everything to do with you, including the house, is being consigned to the past. No more card games, jigsaws, or scrabble at Christmas. It's the end of an era. Rest in Peace, Mum. Love, Sara & Tom. xx
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