Patsy Has Crossed The Bar

On the Death of a Sister

We shared a bond of time and place,

Our lives entwined like threads in lace.

Her mother, my mother, her father mine.

We shared a room, a space in time.

Same time and place in the Universe,

All things were shared with sister first.

Who will I share with from now on?

Sister’s gone, Sister’s gone.

author: Fleta Aday

May 3, 1938   --    November 28, 2014

Patsy Ann Powell Poor--76 years, 6 months, and 25 days--suffers no more. 

Sunset and evening star,

      And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

      When I put out to sea,

   But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

      Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

      Turns again home.

   Twilight and evening bell,

      And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

      When I embark;

   For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

      The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

      When I have crost the bar.

Alfred Lord Tennyson