No Gifts

No gifts or cards to buy 
now she's gone.
Twice a year –
birthday and Christmas –
would be the frequency
of thinking, choosing,
purchasing, sending.

She was a broken sparrow,
shrunk from a woman.
When I helped to bear
the coffin to the catafalque,
there was hardly weight at all.

At home the cards, the gifts,
are stored somewhere.
He will find them when
he can bring himself
to look through her effects –
gifts and cards,
tiny things that were sent
to a woman who became a sparrow.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace