It didn’t matter the sky was cloudy, or that the cafes were closed.
It didn’t matter no one spoke to her as she walked
through the almost deserted city.
It didn’t matter a concerned police officer stared at her.
Nothing mattered; he was dead.
He whom she loved was dead.
He had died with only a PPE nurse beside him and not her.
What could ever matter against that?
My second book of Poetry continues its slow, but consistent – persistent? 😉 – stroll towards the City of Completion.