I’m not sure what mode Robert’s music is in but it seemed to me to perfectly match the mood of this poem.

curtains

curtains of her long-lost love
in household chores where dust is found
a crossword puzzle of her loss

scattered wide on kitchen tiles,
withered, seemed like toilet bowls
which needed harpic now to shine.

groceries to put away.
so much to do.
so little time…

First published in Red River Review
http://www.redriverreview.net/
(10/05/18)