Poem: Your aunt

Your aunt

has mellowed

since your mother,

her sister, died.

It is strange

how much she seems

at peace,

even if not calm

or without the marks

of stress, she is kinder,

has lost the cruel edge,

the sharpness

of her judgements.

It was all to do

with love

and protection,

I suppose.

I wish she had trusted us.

I wonder if she does now,

or if it is only just

that she has accepted

it is too late

for anything she says

to make a difference.