The violin lies silently
By the book of poems he read
There's an unfinished letter
That he started before bed



The nightly cup of cocoa
Red roses in a vase
A postcard from the children
The memory of his face 



It hurts sometimes to see them
Yet I cannot look away
If he could see me grieving
I wonder what he'd say



Words of friends and family
Tell me I should move on
Get rid of all the keepsakes
Stark reminders that he's gone



I bury my face in his sweater
Sweet comfort that it brings
Lost in this time forever
Surrounded by his things



Kathleen McCoy Eldridge©
July 13, 2008
All Rights Reserved