Flowers on their Doorstep

Dressed in black with tear stained cheeks
And you can hear their wails and see their puffy eyes
Where are their flowers?
Or were you too busy watching the coffin drop to notice the grieving
Why are those flowers on a grave?
A grave is a ride to relief, right?
And even while you know that,
 you still waste mourning flowers on letting go
Don't let the grievers go
Let them rest their heads in your lap and hold them
Send them flowers before they lift shovels and make their beds
Beds where they will rest too soon
Save the grieving while you still can
Before death offers them a meal and a place to stay
Offer them comfort on their doorsteps
Wrapped in blue tissue paper and pity
There the grievers go buying flowers for loss of conscious
Something that can’t thank them or hold onto their wrists to trace their veins and feel a pulse
Their blood feels cold in their skin and they spend their days curled up in bed
Huddled under thin sheets with dark faces that look like roofs on the verge of caving in
Beat death to asking them out for coffee and listen to their words in between sips from a ceramic cup
Unwrap them from their sheets and wrap them with your arms
Just hold them tight