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.