After so long a time, how does it feel?
After so many tears, when will it heal?
The chair you sat on is always there
The thoughts I have of you are ever near.
The wide World I once loved, but now confess
Has become a refuge for my loneliness.
The many chores you daily did to keep
The household safe and clean and neat
Are done by me, ever more aware of what
The effort meant and means, a service given
When now each lonely task is driven
By a sense that self-service does not satisfy.
I feel just half a one when on the street
The people that we knew and now I meet.
‘How is Ursula?’ One time they would ask;
How indeed! To settle that is now my only task.
July 2013
t