The lights above your desk remain
Dark and unlit, giving shadows free reign
Over your domain.
But that’s okay.
There’s nothing there anyway,
Nothing to approve, nothing to discuss
No papers to sign.
Just an empty reminder
Of the weight of our expectations
Elsewhere keys clackety-clack in concert
Orchestrating complaints that will, like their progenitors,
Be left unborn and blind.
We’ll miss you when you go
And ask you to spare some thought
For those who were left behind.