The Underground,

When he died, friends reached out,
Talked kindly of him, remind her of the good times they had, together as a family.

They tell me I'm better off without you,
That you didn't deserve me,
That there's something better soon.

Death stole him away,
She could believe he had loved her to the end,
Talk fondly of him in public,
Teach the children pride in their father.

I face the reality that you were stolen by a look, a smile, a childish longing,
and i was rejected for one other,
Then the one after that.
I face the disappointment in our children's eyes.

Death made him cold and still,
She could remember him as he was, set in stone,
Ignore the changes to his body, underground.

But cold to me, and still, alive
i must watch you change, each change a surprise,
Each change made harder by the habits of before.

After he passed over,
She imagined bumping into him,
On every street corner, theater and queue,
She's hurt by the strangers gaze

But you passed me over.
I see you. You speak with me
On streets and at schools and on runs.
I'm hurt by your stranger's gaze.

Time heals, they tell us,
move on without him, its best.
underground or overland?
each train leaves its own grief.