I can see your boarding house now,
A spacious, two-storied bungalow
That overlooked the blue-water harbour.
Your rambling house had good prospects.
There were boarders, like me, coming and going:
Some were short-term: some were long-term.
I had a bedroom with a view upstairs:
We dined and watched television downstairs.
It was a case of upstairs, downstairs.
You believed in me as a man, a student:
You listened when I found study difficult,
You insisted that I finish the course.
Thanks partly to you, I did graduate then,
With a degree that opened doors in teaching;
Doors that would otherwise have been closed.
But there was more to you than that...
For you were a spiritualist, a medium:
You were in touch with the other side.
You spoke of the light or dark aura I had.
An aura of happiness: an aura of dejection.
You advised me to trust the voice of intuition,
Which has served me well in many a crisis.
You predicted that I would live a long life;
You were an angel and I know your spirit lives.