I open my eyes, to warm tea by my bedside
It tells me that you love me
You rose before I
Already welcoming the day,
Feeding the birds and having your cigarette in the dawn
Because you know I’d rather not see you smoke,
But I do not mind that you do.
As we eat our breakfast to the sound of radio 2
I attempt to beat my top score on the morning quiz
You chuckle to yourself at how silly I am for getting frustrated because I am sure it was the right answer
I insist on washing the dishes whilst you sit with a coffee
But then you dry them and insist that I now sit.
As mid-morning approaches, we walk, hand in hand to the shop
Like every day
To buy fresh milk, and bread and something for dinner.
We comment on how the local pond is looking untidy
And stop to pick up some litter we see antagonizing the ducks

The afternoon spent in the sunshine of our garden
As I dig the vegetables and you tend to the potted plants
Watch the birds flirt with each other around the pond
Today is Friday, fish day. The day we’ll eat our tea from our laps, like every Friday
Then while away the evening, in silence, relaxing from the day
My arm reaching over to your chair, holding your hand, and there it stays
Until bedtime
as we swap books and turn out our lights at the same time.
Saturday comes, repeating Friday, it is what we do
it is familiar, and comfortable.
Today, I work on my wine making
as you sit opposite me, cross stitching, in silence.
Tonight we shall catch up on the latest foreign drama
Swap competed books at bedtime
and read, until we both turn out the lights.
Together
Sunday.
We sit, in church, with hand upon hand
And give thanks
For the last time
With your final breath taking you to your knees, to the floor, out of my arms

Tonight I eat dinner alone
Your bed side light does not get turned off
Because you are not there to turn it on
I finish my book, ready to swap with you, but you haven’t finished yours yet
And as I wake there is no tea by my bed. But I imagine it there
Taking two bowls from the cupboard, and putting one back
When you do not hear my breakfast call
And I wonder whether I should touch your plants
Or put away your cross stitched pattern
And I still cook enough for two
Still rest my hand upon your chair
But you are not there
There is a change to the silence
I miss the silence we shared
I miss the fact that we embraced what we liked,
No matter how boring our lives seemed to others
To us it was special
Garden centers were our excitement
Each other was our comfort
I don’t know how to feel comfortable without you silently by my side.