The Widower

left: some clothes and letters chips on dishes memories her sisters neighbours who shared recipes chat memories of her some like yours

there was a gap between you you wanted others in yet that deep work-a-day back-porch wordless closeness pulls you to her - you die too

now she becomes herself work struggle worry gone her crisp voice, sense fill silent shared rooms dark-iron hair neat drawers you know her now you're so much her!