Reading Time: < 1 minute


She will remember him, won't she?
When she opens up the cupboard door
To set the place for tea.
One less setting, one empty chair.
Twisting excruciating in her belly,
Cutting across her throat...
He will not be there.

She will remember him, for sure...
In the quiet when she cannot sleep -
In that enormous bed.
The pillow uncrumpled and clean.
No point in anticipating his soft touch.
No breathing beside her...
Where he would have been.

She will remember him, I know...
When the grass is growing much too long -
In the garden, alone -
Beside the smart new sandstone wall.
One more job accumulating without him...
When she will give anything
To have him... that's all.

She will remember him, and cry...
When we have all gone after the day -
When he was lowered -
Back to the rich and ginger grime,
And the house reverberating spoken tears
And our nervous laughter,
Gives memory... time.

But most of all... she will remember him... won't she?



© Allen Ansell 2023