Knock

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
Pane.

 

Colin Lee

colin-lee-small

After attending a funeral last Friday, the widower’s farewell with his wife has stuck in my mind ever since.

Photo Courtesy: Pixabay
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9 thoughts on “Knock

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    1. Thanks for reading, Imelda. Another friend of mine had just lost his fathet yesterday. It does make me reverberate upon your thought. Oh, how does one live on?

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  1. that you take a moment to be part of his farewell, silent and spoken grief is a bond we cannot see, yet it’s there. Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch, never have words been so true. Despair, you write that word and I think it is the most poignant description of grief. I love this poem for your tender observation and respect.

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