The Removal

It was not a hearse that stopped at the gate;
just a panel van, quite plain, and white,
but the old man knew as he turned away,
that they'd come at last, they were here for Kate.
The trolley was black, and it's chrome shone bright
in the morning sun of that dreadful day.

Two people lifted, folded, wheeled it slow –
and the trolley that came in flat and black
left bearing a gentle mound. The old man
touched a black-clad arm - 'But where will she go?'
A quiet word, then the wheels went clack,
clack-clack down the little step, clack-clack to the van.

Lost, he followed them down the path, and lost,
(Oh Kate!), he leaned on the picket gate and wept.
His Katie, with strangers who'd never seen
her smile, or heard her laughing as she tossed
their first-born in the air… 'We've never slept
apart', he said, 'since we were both sixteen'.