The Widow


A glance at the photo by her bedside

and the white cross on the fresh grave

in the cemetery just outside her window

Life as she knew it slipped away

as red hues of morning burned away the night sky

A last kiss remembered and a promise made

A time to mourn as was her right

A time to heal as was her duty

She brushed her daughter’s hair

and faced a new day

photo: pixabay


Thank you for your comments.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.