Domestic Requiem

I'm sure she didn't know

opening her eyes to that morning

that it would be her last.

She didn't know

as she rinsed her coffee cup and strainer

tipping the little battered saucepan upside down to dry

that it would never move again.

That her old rubber gardening shoes

left casually askew by the back door

would have to wait for her forever.

The attendant bits and pieces of a very private life,

those small and innocent moments of self

woven suddenly into exquisite significance.

She didn't know as she moved through her day

that she was leaving an aching trail of presence

for our forensic hearts to follow.