In the End

You rented a carriage house—
A shed actually,
Behind the main house.

Your quarters kept
Getting smaller
And smaller

Like a Margaret Laurence novel

Until all that was left
Was a coffin
To house you.

You know what
I’m going to say—
And I know you hate it

But facts are facts,
A truth you can’t
Evade

And the facts state:

Grief sometimes
Comes and stays…

But emptiness
Always remains.