Love

 I watch you sit, besides your late husband's grave stone 

And you frantically try to light a candle 

But it is so cold, and you are so shaky 

And the flame leans way to the right, and sputters out 

Over and over

It's been two years 

You said two years was finally enough time 

To pick up and move on 

It is not. 

We both know it. 

Two years is a minute to death.

Your daughter says "I love you" 

To everyone 

She has replaced "hello" 

With intimacy 

I think we should all do so. 

Pick up the phone

"I love you"

Meet a stranger 

"I love you" 

Grocery shopping 

"I love you" 

Everyone needs more love 

Now that you are gone.