I ‘ve had to buy some smaller dishes
The old ones are too big for only me
I weep as in the bowl I gently wash
The ones we used to use when we had tea.
Here’s a terracotta Spanish pan.
We filled to entertain our friends.
Y0ur dish of onions and lamb;
Tomatoes added to the blend.
Here’s a souffle dish for six or eight .
Cheese or lemon, you enjoyed them both.
And here are all the dinner plates.
Too separate from these, I’m feeling loth.
I don’t know if I’ll cook for friends again
They’ve not cooked for me just lately.
Are they afraid I’ll steal their man?
They state their reasons so politely.
In the guide for widows I was told
Prepare to lose some friends and then some more.
I don’t want their men so mild yet bold
I’ve closed the windows and I’ve locked the doors
I feel they compliment me as they think
I’m so alluring I can pull again.
But I have had enough of loveless links.
I don’t want any cast off ,needy men.
I dry the pyrex and the copper.
I dry the lids and muse on colours
What shall I have for my supper?
What healthy diet shall I follow?
I just want to be with you one hour.
A cup of Earl Grey of tea, a chance to talk.
But I accept that will be nevermore,
Like my hand in yours on our long walks
I didn’t know that you were dying
The doctors are afraid of saying.
I wish you were in my arms, just lying.
I’ve tired of churches and of praying.
I felt that tendon in your gentle hand
You turned around and smiled so brightly.
Then the curtains of your death descend.
You slipped away so soft, so quietly.
