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.

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