They, lived with it
Or, It with them
It was their,
with them.
With them,
Always.
Like an unwelcome dinner guest,
it comes.
This death
Alone,
leaves it not.
When it does,
A beloved then too.
Together,
They, return not.
It comes again,
With out shame.
Ask it not,
Then to leave,
Remain it must,
This unwelcome guest.
For to live with death
Is to live the same.
Steven, again, you had a beautiful way of expressing your grief, and I'm sure it helped. I'm happy for you that your wife is alive as you appear to be young people, certainly not ready for separation. My husband was close to 80 when he died and I was 74, so that makes a difference.
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