The blinds fitter

He comes, name of Stuart
From the blinds shop

To fit new window treatments, four,
To our walls

He sees our lounge table, covered
In about 200 condolences cards

"Someone havin' a party?!"
He exclaims

And then is told
Of the passing of our daughter.

(How can we be so upbeat about it all,
Little one?)

He fixes the blinds and chatters
About investment property

And retiring early,
In seventeen years.

Then he leaves
With his plans.

The cards are slowing down,
Just a few now.

17 years.