after all,
we are only burying her
in thought.

like an absent mind,
she isn't gone,
but elsewhere,

drinking spiced tea,
probably,
curled up in an armchair
in a library—

nothing could ever draw her
from a good book,
remember?

there are so many libraries
out there
and so many books;

naturally,
it will take her a long time
to get to this one
and come home.