Eyebright I called her.
Something Daddy used to say, I canâ€™t remember.
But I called her Eyebright.
Standing on tip-toe, she just reached the bottom of the lavender.
She wasnâ€™t very tall.
But then it didnâ€™t matter much,
Sheâ€™d fly up, hovering,
With her wings all buzzing and shimmering in the sunlight,
Put her nose into the blossom.
Lavender was longer than her head.
Perhaps the scent was so much bigger too.
I never thought to ask.
Eyebright was my friend.
She was in the lavender near my swing after Mummy died.
It was her tussock where I put the wreath of pink roses
From the pile on top of the box they said Mummy was in.
But she wasnâ€™t, there wasnâ€™t anything in the box.
Certainly not Mummy.
Iâ€™d have felt if she was in the box and I couldnâ€™t,
So she wasnâ€™t.
Why did they insist she was?