Della

She doesn't deserve this. Alone, after fifty-odd years Married to him. Alone, too attached to her home To leave it to live with a son In a place strange to her. Alone, still talking to the husband Who has been dead a year now. In a moment of clarityy, she realizes he is gone And feels compelled to visit him At the cemetery. Down the road she started Picked up by neighbors three times And taken back home. They, knowing she was no longer capable of being alone, Yet no one thought to stay. Now she's gone, we don't know where The woods, the river, the roadsides Where can she be? Wherever it is, we can only pray, Della That you are no longer alone.