My wife’s ashes are being interred next Wednesday, 30th April 2025, in the Church where we got married in 1967.
I wrote a little poem for either one of my granddaughters or the vicar to read out at the service.
Every bit of it is true, just with a little artistic licence
This is the Place
This is the place where I first fell in love with Jackie,
When the world was wide and the days were long.
She smiled, Miss Rogerstone, in 1965
And handed me Smarties, the sweetest prize of all,
While the band played on in the old church hall.
This is the place where she stood so still,
At the back of the hall, with her reel-to-reel
Saturday, October, '66 winds blowing through,
Her eyes on the music, her heart full of truth.
The tape spun gently, like the days we knew.
This is the place where we pledged our lives,
In September’s sun, as husband and wife.
The bells rang out, the choir sang clear,
Every word a promise, every step sincere.
We danced into forever from right here.
This is the place where she now rests deep,
Where the yew trees sigh and the willows weep.
Beneath this earth, so soft, so kind,
She waits with peace, and love still shines.
This is her silence, her soul’s design.
This is the place where I’ll one day lie,
Beneath the same sky, where larks still fly.
Until that time, I walk our lane,
Each step a memory, joy and pain
And whisper her name in the morning rain.
I love you, Jackie. Always and forever.
This is the place where we began.
And this is the place we will meet again.
It’s flat where I live in Northants.
