Reality rings a rust-filled bell,
chiming for a mass unspent.
A dress and suit tied at the waist.
A bond never escaping the pits of hell.

A hermit dies alone, pining for what never was.
A widow dies alone, pining for what was lost.
I miss you, I do, and always shall.
This is life, this is the past, this is the future.
So now, I bid you farewell.