As if attempting to wake her up,
But for fear of stirring her peace
Or of spilling his tears,
His knuckles sank
Stiffly upon the box,
Quieter than a wreck scuttled in the blue.
He pulled his gaze away,
Scrunched a sob of despair
Into a grunt,
Whilst his fingers waded across
The cold and glassy
After attending a funeral last Friday, the widower’s farewell with his wife has stuck in my mind ever since.
Photo Courtesy: Pixabay