The bell doth chime for you but not I.
I wait in your absence and you remain
Unaware of mine, I sleep in your absence
But you do not sleep in mine.
Ever so lightly doth the bell chime.
The jingle of tears audible to only I.
Silent gaps just as you once took yours.
I plead with you do not bid me goodbye
Sullen faces proclaim to both you and I.
Yet why is it I who remains?
Why is it you are but remains?
Still in your grave I am stilled in mine
In your wake I am woken.
The jingle of Death’s hand, beard
painted white, lacquered in the colour of
death with semblances of life.
I bid you no-morrow and no-night.