Baptise her with the lot

I wish you were still living
I wish you were still here
I was making you a cup of tea
You were sitting  near

I put it down beside you
On the table top
But before we could drink it
We heard a heavy knock

The woman  came in boldly
With a  spirit black and sheer
She wanted to assess you
But Death had come with her

Death was dancing like her shadow
She was its chosen host
You never drank that cup of tea
That loss hurts me  the most

For a married couple
Sitting side by side
Having a nice cup of tea
Is nothing to deride

Meals and drinks  form  structures
For the sick and frail
You were happy in your old brown chair
I feel that I have failed

I  should have kept that woman out
I see her mocking face
Death hid itself  just by the porch
She  left me  here defaced

Eight days later on the phone
She heard  my quivering voice
Told me to get therapy
Mourning is for ghosts

We cannot grieve and weep these days
For all emotion’s wrong
We need to be schizoid
Our affect flatly flung

Now they say I have spare rooms
They cut my  benefits
I cannot sell my body
I’ll have to use my wits

Come back,John, and have your tea
I’m still warming the pot
If that woman comes again
I’ll baptise her with the lot

I miss you, how I miss you
I only have your dust
I keep it in the window
I ‘m lost in a grey mist