.
He lays in peaceful repose upon a sheet of satin,
she moves up to his body and curls into him,
placing her head upon his unmoving chest,
unconditional grief shown in mute sadness.
She recalls his voice filled with love and affection,
his familiar scent now gone, cold and musty,
as deaths sweet perfume hangs heavy
like a drape of choking intoxicant trance.
Moments stretch blandly into minutes of ache,
the minutes career into hours of silent vigil.
And with her head upon his unmoving chest
she exhales and whimpers her final sigh,
a last breath and she submissively slips away.
Hoping, perchance, once more to hear
her masters voice.
© Pagan Paul (25/11/17)
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