In the hospital’s quiet, where shadows play,
My Nana rests, in a frail array.
Lost in a world of hospital walls,
Yet her spirit stands, it never falls.

In her small frame, a child-like grace,
But her mind, a beacon to light this place.
Filled with memories of old Dublin’s streets,
Where laughter danced to timeless beats.

The first phone’s ring, and the TV’s glow,
Her stories weave, they ebb and flow.
Traveling through foreign lands and culinary delight,
She paints a picture, oh so bright.

Mother to three, grandmother to seven,
Great grandmother to four, this is her heaven.
Her love, a river, ever flowing,
Through generations, it keeps on growing.

In the sunlight of my memories’ gaze,
I see her hands, in tender ways.
Crafting strawberry jam, and fairy cakes so sweet,
Her voice melodic with tales to repeat.

Though illness may grip, her spirit stands tall,
In the hospital’s quiet, she’s the brightest star of all.
For her love, like a flame, forever burns,
In hearts she’s touched, in lessons learned.

So, here’s to you, Nana, in this trying hour,
Your strength, your faith, your love, they hold such power.
In your frailty, you’re a beacon of grace,
Shining bright in this hospital’s embrace.

A Poem by Siân Williams
@satnamtherapy