I came home from your funeral dressed all in my Sunday best. The shock of losing you is past and now I feel depressed. Our house is large and empty now and silence roams the halls. I remember the happier times before I lost it all.
Some weeks have passed and I’ve resolved to sell this place and leave. I’ll get a small apartment with just space enough to grieve. Of course that means I’ll have to pack and cast some things away. That’s how I came across the box saved from our wedding day.
How beautiful was the dress your wore on the night that we were wed I still can hear the music played when you pretended that I led. The hand sewn pearls, the lavish lace, your falling auburn curls. How rich a man this pauper was when you were in my world.