When you dress in black and cloak
your feelings with your tears,
Remember all that time you had,
the days, the weeks, the years.

Now is not the time to bring me
flowers in a bow,
That took so long amongst the weeds,
a journey bloom from sow.

When you sit up front and centre
and then go on to say your piece,
Do not think of all the times
you mentioned to me least.

Do not say I was a good, kind wife,
or a sweet and loving mum.
Think instead of the long list
of ways that I'll ruin our son.

Now is not the time to bring me
flowers in a bow.
Not now. Like this?
In front of everyone I know?

Instead just let me lie in peace
and slowly start to rot.
And just like now I can see out my days
as a girl that life forgot.