Her Legacy (I. P.)

“Spend it on yourself, love,"
that was what she wanted, she said.
Glance up at those green eyes of hers –
glinting. “Treat yourself – buy
a new Rolls, if you like. Realistically
though, a second-hand Skoda. Anything
that makes you happy. Can’t take
it with you, you know.” Hear
the catch in her voice – see
that wry, half-smile.

"Spend it like there’ll be
no tomorrow.” Sound advice.
True enough. For each of us, one day,
that day won’t come and I admit
I am tempted. Except, for once,
it would be nice not having to dread
my printer running out of ink...
the thud of the gas bill dropping
on the mat. The service charge
for the flat; a final reminder.

“Don’t be so boring. Go for it
kid!” Her eyes still tantalise
looking down from my piano;
the photo I took, driving back
from our final term at Uni. Watford Gap –
the queue for 'The Ladies’ - horrendous.
She posed for the camera, crossing her legs,
still smiling that smile. The day
she’d agreed to marry me. The day
before her cancer was diagnosed.

On reflection, I might just bag
that desert island – the one we’d go to
in our minds sometimes. The one
where goodbyes are never spoken;
the one with sea as green as her eyes. “And
don’t even think about doing anything daft...”
her last, precious words.