A few weeks after I noticed:

That face in a stack
,Like a marble statue,
stayed static each day.
And the ridges all around
,But never quite near,
grew different each day.
And that marble face of stack
,Sitting still by grim,
grew more melancholy each day.


And the day after that:

Supposedly Static
Seemingly
But today has those Sad slanted eyes
shadowed
And that waning wan smile
still in speech
A serious brow with sloping cheek
And I wonder what you don't want to say


Thinking of dear E.D.:

Looking down, I see
Oh, you are very sad today
but then, sitting down, I see
Your eyes
And you seem, merely solemn,
your brow, much less distressed
And your lower lip protruding out
, open in eloquent enjoyment


Wondering about warm water:

The crease in your head is bigger
But you seem happy
the line could be grotesque
If I were so inclined
, like cold depth or lidless eyes,
So strange that your smile is
so hard to see.
Only when these defunct eyes are not trying so hard
Is it Truth or fondness that molds your kindly cheek

Huh?:

Is your smile getting bigger?
You're very nearly laughing now!
Perhaps something good will happen soon...


The make up days:

You're very much gone now, and even the books that are in your place are different
I wonder if anyone noticed, but of course they didn't
but did she
maybe
, maybe
think about something when she shattered the illusion
Of you ever being there when i sat down and look over
My silly human mind
can think that the shelves sealed to keep dust out
signify the tomb where your scattered features rest