Our house is dark and silent now,

yet much remains of memory:

the sweep of time from love's first vow

through all our years of harmony.


I cannot bring myself to change

the things we chose and made and cared,

for all reflect how love arranged

two lives together, truly shared.


Monument to a life now done,

silent tomb for a life remaining,

where tick of time's unheard by one

who waits in stillness so sustaining.



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