The mood in this place is a full saturation,
Administration of the weight of life,
A ritual of peering at the knowledge
That that space of his is empty.
Despite the figures of his that scatter there:
The coffee mug,
The work half-done,
The fingerprints of his passing
Fading soon to the nameless detritus of
A colleague departed.
How to operate under that weight?
When the room is silenced,
The shifting tap of keys
Hit like a reprimand – to recall again the news
And pause, and wait in that weighted space,
And feel the thudding of your own heart,
A comfort that brings fresh tears,
For there are no more years for some-
And we farewell a life that was fair and well,
And all the days to come.