I have no heart for the shadows at the table

What remains of what has been and never will be again

Dinners had on rainy nights with people who now cease to breathe

Breakfast alone because no one liked the sun quite as much as me

It's all just a corpse of pleasant times far gone

Family and friends bowing heads and saying prayers

Over a magnificent meal prepared by weathered womanly hands

Memories of a happiness that I, myself, can no longer stand