Since you died,I’ve got a new pan
And eight china mugs
With
William Morris designs
on them
Because the old ones have disappeared
Or broken.
I wish you could see the new chair.
I look at it,
Coral red.
I am ill again.
Illness is said to be common in
“The bereaved.”
I wonder, when I will get better.
Better.Bitter.
Every day a little change occurs so
this is not the home you left.
I don’t know if I have even begun to grieve yet.
The shock of human betrayal took my mind away.
The sun shines but a frost bit the plants
I know how they feel.
I think.
Frost or fire?
