Jason Ridpath's poem is a list of wishes from someone grieving a person who has died. The speaker wishes for wisdom in the moments that count, for the courage to take a kiss, and for one more chance to hold the person before they passed. Each line is plain and short on decoration, which makes it feel like thoughts spilling out without polish.
The fourth wish stands out: moments that were "now" become "then" before we can enjoy them. The speaker only sees how precious they were once they're gone. The ending drops from big emotion to something ordinary: "cleaning the dishes." The speaker admits that the wishing is a way of avoiding regret, not a way of fixing it. It is "empty" because nothing it asks for can happen.
The mood is quiet, heavy and honest. There's sorrow, but also guilt and a kind of numbness, the feeling of life carrying on with its chores while the mind keeps circling back to what was lost.