My love is hanging around
the dead carcass of the mining industry.
He's standing there
at the industry's funeral
along side the other mourners
and grievers.
Flies and the stench of the decay
stop him
from going on to greener pastures.
I can't yank at him to move.
He's a grown man
and very independent.
Maybe it will take time
after the death of the industry
for his grief and shock to subside -
And he will start anew.
Sometimes I think he hasn't accepted
the loss.