The windows closed, draperies faded covered in dust and drawn to the sights and sounds of the world
No sound of wind blowing in, no sound of  music out, no laughter heard just quiet sobbing.
Where once fine china and crystal sat upon the table, now a chipped and cracked bowl,
with watery grains of sweetened rice and near clabbered milk, set for one.
A centerpiece of once bright yellow sunflowers  faded, wilted,
water rancid.
Another day  of grieving for the loves lost and of solitude
A time when others were around yet unable to see the heart,
the wish to be loved, needed and involved.
Forgotten and left to ones own echo of time and life long ago.
Climbing into the marital bed late at night listening to the sounds
of sleep from the one that no longer remembers who you are
calling another’s name
Thinking of grown and gone children so afraid of their own loneliness,
they can’t see the wilted sunflowers, nor her wilted heart,
a heart withering …just like the sunflowers…
A heart withering like the flowers.