I'll look at the flowers I planted for you
Not water them, eyes turned away
I'll pack up your clothes for the charity sale
And perhaps volunteer half a day
I'll send thank-you cards to your family
And smile on recalling your face
Your winter coat fits me well enough
And your paintings enliven the place
I knew I still had these trimmings
From the last time you cut your hair
Why launder a bedsheet I don't even use
If the scent of your skin is still there?
Here's the scarf I was wearing the day I found out
There'll be no getting rid of this stain
I've locked up the knife in the licorice box
With your ring, and the photos from Spain
I'm glad that I had the presence of mind
To pocket your glasses and keys
I took just one sip from the bottle of whiskey
And stored it along with all these
The churchwarden calls me good day as I visit
To walk among statues and stones
In a couple of years he won't even suspect
That I've come to reclaim your dear bones
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