2022  
In cold morning. on broken  deck, lies a child. Alone.
Dove near her heart, reminder of family,  peace she once knew.  
It  cries her pain.

Soon all will be lost, to love once again.
Close in deepest sleep, an angel missing.

How can this child lie among all the stars ?
How she sparkled, played, fingers spread!  
Unfulfilled.
Heart still.  

Heaven and earth soaked in her spill.

B. T. W.  2016
In the morning on the deck lies a man. He's alone.
There's a dove near his heart, a gramophone .
Most days more gentle, he senses the pain.
Soon he will be lost to love once again.
Somewhere close in her deep late sweet sleep,
One angel’s, missing this sheep.
How can it be he’s hidden among all the stars.
Where he sparkles, fingers spread, unfulfilled.
Heart full till heaven and earth soaked in it’s spill?
B. Whittaker
(As first writ in 2016 mourning my first wife lost in 2014)