Her day was rudely disrupted,

When husband Frank died.

She had appointments for broken nails.

For white hair to be dyed.

The cause of his death.

Was a sudden, cardiac failure.

Two seldom calls to saddened sons.

In Canada and Australia.

A stranger to the immaculate house.

Frank spent time, in the shed.

Tinkering with anything electrical.

Awaiting a call to be fed.

The one day spent together.

Was at Sunday Church.

Where grey haired powdered widows.

Gathered to gossip and besmirch.

Frank would always sleep alone.

In the children’s old bedroom.

There on the the windowsill.

Plastic flowers, still in bloom.

Now it’s Church on a Wednesday.

Half a mile from home.

The last time spent together.

She traveled back alone.

Like a man with no shadow.

Frank, left hardly any trace.

An unremarkable forgettable life.

An unremarkable forgettable face.