She sits in the gloom of the caff on the corner,

Alone at the table since seven o’clock.

The hours that have passed have not muted her anger,

Nor lessened the sorrowful sting of the shock.

 

With eyes that are downcast and seeping with sadness,

The coffee she clutches is tasteless and cold.

Her face lacks expression, so pallid and bloodless,

Her thoughts on the one who will never grow old.

 

Her mind is in turmoil, emotions confusing,

She stares at a cup that she can’t really see.

Oh, how could you leave and consign me to grieving,

And how will I live without you here with me.

 

For you were the light at the end of my tunnel,

The cream in my coffee, the love of my life;

The sound of your silence has signalled a death knell,

A future that’s stillborn, no saving midwife.

 

She sits in the gloom of the caff on the corner,

And nothing has changed since she sat in that chair,

Except that the grip of the grief has grown keener,

Surrounded by shadows of one who’s not there.