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crushed

for “Emily”

Every supper I eat, I eat for you.

This is a lie.
A good laugh will forget,
or perhaps a headache or fine weather.

Sooner or later,
I'll set the extra place setting
back in the cutlery drawer,
lay the knife, fork and spoon
into their slots
in the felt-lined canteen
in the sideboard.

But (my mother always said at Christmas)
it's the thought that counts.

And there will be days
when a summer shower
pretends to real rain
against a clear sky.
Just for a moment,
thyme crushed on my chopping board,
a certain song on my radio.

Matthew John Williams
2006

Valediction, written at the request of the family of “Emily”.