The Departure

Lovers separated by death...

The Departure

 

She folds the blanket neatly, across an empty bed

Staring hard at the pillow, void of any head,

Pictures gathered on a stand, smiles young…then old

One of Christmas ghosts long past, snowy white, and cold,

She sits beside the window, peering out at stars so near

Closes her eyes and wishes…willing him to appear,

Lids flutter open and wander…resting on the bed

Lonely, still, and empty, mocking her instead,

Reaching up with withered hand, she touches metal cold

The last gift that he gave her, a locket with a rose,

A tear slides gently down, a trail amid the creases

Pain rising in her chest, grief suffocates, then ceases,

Weary now she thinks of sleep, a small escape at least for some

Still she lies upon the bed and prays for death to come,

For living has become too hard and dying now a wish

For when he left he took her will, and she’s so very tired of this,

This existence, this struggle, to make it through the day

Just to find that night is worse without him, death is lying in the way…