Meditation in White (Lilies)
Clouds pass my high window quickly, abandoning the blue.
Indefinite mass, indeterminate, impersonal
as only intimates may know.
Though you lay there, nothing remained in the bed.
Which is the blank page’s gift, the monotone
or a suggestion of mist and stripped bones.
The nurse marked the passage with pen on paper.
Renewal, departure. A rising.
I accept the ash of suffering
as I accept our destination, the morning
and its offerings, with you in synthesis,
complete and empty, shaded in contrast,
wilting, as another opens. Laughter eases the way.
***
This was first published in Shadowtrain, and made its first appearance here in March 2016.
O at the Edges 
lovely and your last line is so true
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Laughter, even (especially?) in odd circumstances, does ease the way, at least in my experience.
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Elegaic – beautifully so.
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Thanks, Lynne. Grief follows, no matter where we go, but it hangs out for briefer periods these days.
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Glad to hear!
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So realistic…
Beautiful writing dear.
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