My wife is away for a few days, off on one of her junkets
Which leaves me here alone in this house to consider

What life would be like if she didn't return
I look around this empty house and I begin to wonder

Sitting in the living room with the television off
It's lonely when the only sound is the Seth Thomas clock

I know I would miss her smile, her laughter, and her just being there for me
Our walks in the woods, her listening to the cranes when over head

How would I cope if she wasn't here, how would I pick up all the pieces
How would I manager to do the little things I always taken for granted

How would I cope with the day to day things she did for me but seldom thanked
Could I survive knowing each task when I've finished I'm still here alone

How would I cope changing the sheets on the bed we shared
Seeing that mild depression where she used to sleep next to me

How would I cope becoming a bit of a recluse, a hermit in the woods
Just leaving as needed for groceries and such, maybe an occasional meal

How would I cope having become my own warden in a self impose prison
Pacing the halls, walking ten miles, but never leaving the house

My only comfort is knowing that I would lie beside her once more
We will sleep side by side for eternity neath a thick dark green blanket

How would I cope, I really don't know nor do I wish to find out
But the larger question to my little muse is “How would you cope?”