We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage /
And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, /
We Poets of the proud old lineage /
Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ...
(James Elroy Flecker)
‘I must go and visit Robyn’ (now in an aged care home near me) I keep telling myself – and keep putting it off. Finally I realise why: that’s where my Andrew died.