It was 1978 when we moved in next door to Denise She was in her 40's then, her husband still alive Linda's parents bought the house, a small fisherman's Cottage, to get me away from the big bad city Until then I lived above a pub smack in the middle Of the red light district. Guess they thought If our girl is too much in love to see any sense We might as well shack them up in a more quiet place Well, I was pretty wild back then, so our house soon Became a meeting place for all my weird friends Punks, Hells Angels, right wing militants, you name it They all came by and I guess we made a terrible racket Now this first year was pretty romantic too We slept under the roof tiles with a little window Right above our bed. There wasn't any heating One day we woke up with snow on our pile of blankets Then we moved out for a year, while Linda's parents Had the cottage demolished and a brand new house Build on top of it. By then I had lost my sharpest edge When we moved back in, Denise must have been relieved Over the following years our relation got more close We would talk to each other on the balcony, in the garden On the street, and never did we have any arguments Seldom we visited each others houses, we both liked solitude Still, one time I took in a heroine addict for two weeks Giving this friend of mine a chance to get his life back on track Now that was a chaotic and often raucous fourteen days But when we explained she seemed alright with it Even so, we always kept our music at a reasonable level And even on wild XTC weekends during the early nineties As stoned as I was, I had Denise in the back of my mind So we partied on a chill-out level, respecting her nights rest I never quite understood why she was so friendly to me I imagine many other neighbors would have called in the cops Then on a sunny morning after talking to Linda in the garden All this explained itself and it came as quite a surprise to me During that first year I started living next door to Denise She broke her foot, and she had to help herself on two crutches And according to her, I asked her if I could help with her errands Now, I've forgotten all about that (the booze...), but she didn't After that I could never do anything wrong to Denise She had made up her mind and I was a descent type of guy No matter what I came up with, she only saw the good in me At a time when I was personally unsure of my own mental health As both Linda and I grew older, our mutual respect deepened And when Denise heard that I had developed lung cancer That must have hit her into the deepest fiber of her soul As she had lost her husband in 1984 as a result of the same dragon Finally at the start of last year , the dragon entered her life as well There was the inevitable chemo therapy, which withered away the strength Of this courageous lady. Now we talked to each other on the telephone Giving each other courage and the determination not to give up easily The last time I saw her was when she rang my doorbell four weeks ago Under her arm was a fine bottle of red wine, for me and Linda to share The last time Linda saw her was in hospital, a few days before her death Still optimistic as ever, all she talked about was going back home Well, it wasn't to be, she died on 22 February, and when I heard I felt as upset as if a close family member would have died It hurt much more than I ever would have imagined possible She was a wise and friendly woman who taught me the most Important thing in life Tolerance... ------------------------------------------------ Thank you for reading this and any comments you might have. It's not realy much of a poem or even short story, but i had to get this out of my system. I'll miss her and her beautiful smile... Dirk