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


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