Afterwards

It feels like a slight; unbearable snub

that everything’s the same, not one bloom

from the vases has drooped, the garden shrub

you had planted is still upright, the room

just as it was before, the cushions rubbed

threadbare where you had sat.  The planet zooms

on its exact track, no change in pace or hub.

Only you are gone, even your perfumes

linger still in wardrobes and empty gloves.

Ashes to ashes. A deadpan earth subsumes

every flake till nothing is left above.

The house’s strangely unchanged. I resume,

but with shifts in meanings of loss and love.

For a grieving friend, with love, respect and wishes for strength and peace as she copes with her loss.