The dinners donor proffered lie now disowned,
The flowered wreaths offered are dying browned,
Condolence cards too now wait their time of fading,
Past companions pass by lost in their grey wilting.

Cold on the table lie two empty plates,
Crockery packed into cosseted crates,
Bills in both names scattered astrew,
Slow heart beat turning life blood to blue.

At my soft knock you open the door.

I too am empty, i have nothing to give, 
I have no answers, no quick easy relief,
I cannot not now or ever salve your grief,
I can sit, though, still and wait too, while the living live.