It is the melancholy
of stares lost in thought
of empty chairs
that we forgot
to dust off.

It is the place
where we become
strangers from
the homes we
come from

where shadows flicker
quicker then the stiffer
bodies that fall

and we mourn them all
each with their own degree
of wet or silent grief.

It is silence
all pale pallor and deathly
waiting patiently
to take you and me

while our loved ones
are finally left
to feel the grief
that we now
feel for thee