by Peter Gallaher
She will be a widow soon.
Today he went into the hospice
Where he will have a sunny room.
Trees behind the house they have
Are filling with young leaves which cast
Thin shadows in the growing gloom.
Six children wait with her at home
To hear their father finally is dead
Tomorrow with the rising of the sun.
Tonight she will lie awake
Behind the empty windows while
A changing wind makes young leaves quake.
What will there be to do? What will be left
After a dead man in a sunny room
While she still has six children in their beds?
