A single tear sits on
her cheek,
Created by her
thoughts so bleak,
Like orange glows
from dying ember,
Last thoughts of him
she can remember.
She sits and waits
until she tires,
Eyes blazed like
burning fires,
In his old chair so
creased and worn,
Her posture there is
so forlorn.
Her hair messy, her
dress tattered,
And her looks no
longer mattered,
She sees his face on
a picture frame,
Parted her lips and
call his name.
The room was so dark
and cold,
Her body slows, too
weak, too old,
Her failing breath,
her stopping heart,
Brings her to him, no
longer death do part.
-Gerald James Castro
